Dr Who Hellsing: The Endless Krieg
by Damar
Summary: The Doctor and Hellsing must combine forces to defeat a unholy alliance of their archenemies. Crossover, with special guest stars from Black Lagoon
1. Chapter 1: Fresh Veal

Dr Who and Hellsing are respectively owned by Kouta Hirano and the BBC.

bThe Endless Krieg/b

bPrologue: Fresh Veal/b

b

Britain, the Countryside near London/b

The manor had stood for a hundred years, ever since the arrival of the first of the family and his 'prize' for England. The gargantuan residence and it's massive miles-stretching walls gave Hellsing Manor a Victorian gothic look. Or at least that's what Tommy thought as he exited the taxicab that had stopped for the large gates.

The man who visited him at Hereford had only given a adress and a short if non-disclosing job description. "Defend England.". The people from UNIT, Torchwood, ARCAM, InGen and Umbrella had been full of words and phrases like 'The trip of a lifetime', 'Guaranteed promotion and salary raise in one year time' and in one rare instance 'Save the world against Cobra-scum!'. Weird bloke that was. In any case, that of the Hellsing Institute was the most shortest, direct and too damned mysterious to let slip.

So, Tommy found himself that morning facing the gates of Hellsing Manor until a guard approached, with his weapon visibly slung around the shoulder.

"This is a restricted area and closed off for civilians. Turn back now, sir."

"I was asked to come here by Captain Pickman. He sent me this note-" Tommy wanted to reach for his pocket but the guard inmediatly grabbed and aimed his weapon on Tommy's head.

"Hold it! Up those hands, QUICKLY!"

The other guard unslunged his MP5, but kept it pointed upwards, ready to intervene. Having been on the otherside of the gun in similair situations during his time in Iraq, Tommy followed their commands and remained silent with his hands up. The guard carefully reached for the pocket Tommy was reaching for, and slowley rummaged inside of it, while keeping his weapon raised. After some stressing seconds, the guard finally retrieved a piece of folded paper and wrapped it open.

The guard read the entire note intently, down to the bottom signiature from Captain Pickman, before he lowered the gun and nodded to his comrade who slunged the rifle back across his shoulder in one rapid fluid move and stepped back into a stance that covered up the fact he nearly shot someone. The guard broke his stare and changed it into a proper smile.

"Sorry about that, sir. We've had problems with Freaks trying to entering the compound. Though it wouldn't matter if they did get inside, the poor cunts."

Tommy found the remark about people with grotsque appearances to be unfitting, but let it slide. Back in the SAS, the chaps with himself included, made far worser remarks about chavs, Iraqis and Harriet Jones.

"No problem. It's comforting to know that security around this place isn't lacking. Whatever this place does, anyway."

"What do you mean, sir? "

"Well, nobody told me a single damn of what I'm supposed to be doing here. It seems all big and like, and proper equipped from the looks of you, but not a clue on what the Institute does. Are you like one of Torchwood's neglected little brothers or something?"

The smile vanished for a moment, before returning and the guard gave a small snicker. "We may be a lot of things, but we are definately not one of Torchwood's little 'flunkies'. And you ought to refrain to say such things in the manor as they do not take that comparison lightly."

"I'm terribly sorry."

"Not a worry. Seeing your the fresh veal, they'll go easy on you. Mabye not iHim/i, if ishe's/i in a bad mood."

"Again speaking in mystery, is that typical Hellsing behaviour?" Tommy was getting enough of the weird treatment, especially against a expierenced SAS Captain, even at the age of 24.

"Don't worry sir. You'll get used to it. But now, you better report to Captain Pickman. He may be the second bravest man I ever heard of, but he's still a tightarse. I'll open the gate for you sir."

The guard moved a switch on a small controlboard built into the wall, and the gates slowly swinged open. Tommy picked up his belongs, wich all fitted in a small duffelbag and ventured through as the gates closed. Unsure and unwilling to leave the only person who he has met so far, he turned around to the guard who was still watching him with a smile that indicated genuine sadistic fun, not hidden homosexual affection.

"Where should I..."

"Go straight forward when you enter the manor and keep forward until you are at the second corridor and than go to the right where you will find the barracks, and ask for Captain Pickman."

"Right, thanks. One remaining question though. What's the deal with 'fresh veal'?"

"I don't recall saying that, sir."

"...Fine. By the way, I failed to introduce myself properly. Thomas Lethbridge-Stewart is the name, formerly Captain in the Special Air Service."

"Sergeant Charles Benton, formerly Royal Marines. Small world, ain't it sir?"


	2. Chapter 2: Fairies & Demons

bTwo Months Later/b

bHellsing Manor/b

"Is it confirmed?"

"Yes, Sir Integra. The orders were quite clear on their intent.."

"Damnit Walter. Have they lost their minds? To destroy what has been standing for a century?"

"I'm afraid they do not care anymore. Some of them believe Hellsing has become too 'old-fashioned' for this new world of theirs. Some even say they saw this coming for a while now."

"Bastards. To betray the Hellsing family is one thing...but changing the meeting to be taken place at Hartman's silvery tower? What moral and aesthetic depths have they reached with that decision?"

Walter, servant of the Hellsing family for nearly 60 years, gave a small grin at his master's infuriation at the Round Table Conference being held this year at One Canada Square in Canary Wharf. Wich was Torchwood turf. Integra stomped out her burning cigar in the ashtray, with a intensity that would lethal to humans if Integra had her hands around them, and one in special.

Yvonne Hartman. Director of Torchwood One, also known as Torchwood Tower or Torchwood London Division. A people's person in her own words, a fake blond narcissistic bitch in Integra's. The decision to have the annual Round Table Conference to be held at the Torchwood Tower, was a break of a old tradition. Usually, the conferences were held at the Tower of London or at Hellsing Manor. Typically a ancient place filled with bloody memories.

But Torchwood Tower was constructed 15 years ago, with no apparent reason why their headquarters required to be a massive skyscraper. The fact they did, along with the fact they could, irritated Integra. While the Hellsing Institute had to declare every single silver mercury round, Torchwood had a near unlimited budget. Though that was logical, as Torchwood captured and researched incredible alien technologies, while Hellsing's only concern was the 'little' domestic undead problems. And while those problems increased at certain points, the alien threat has remained everlasting high.

"Very well. We shall depart tomorrow." Integra admitting defeat was a rare occasion, but she refused to be absent from the meeting, and have Vyonne Hartman convince the other members of things that could very well call in the end for the Hellsing Institute.

"As you wish, mistress." Walter bowed down and was ready to return to duty.

"One more thing. Naturally I will have you accompany me, but two more of our staff will come along to reinforce our position."

"You are not referring to the police girl ánd Him, I hope?"

"No, of course not. Hartman would likely panic and do something foolish. Mabye even declare open war between Torchwood and Hellsing" Integra allowed herself a little smile at that thought."I will have two of our security staff come along. Any suggestions, Walter?"

"I recomend Captain Lethbridge-Stewart. He's proven quite capable in his short time with us and has even begon tutoring the new girl, the American we recruited two weeks ago during Alucard's mission to Asia."

"Yes. I recall giving him and Seras strict orders to hunt down the two Romanian Freaks, and yet he somehow ended up fighting with a local chapter of Iscariot and the Russian mob. The fact he brought a American back doesn't cheer me up. Nor redeem the fact that now there's a contract on his head and that of Seras."

"I think they are capable of handling that, lady Integra."

"That's the point. Whenever they 'handle' something like that, it ends up with a lot of dead people, and substantial property damage." Integra sighed and reached for another of her highly expensive Dutch cigars. In her line of work, lung cancer was the least she should be concerned about.

"Alright, have them report to me as soon as possible to brief them for tomorrow. Especially the American."

"I'm afraid they the mission they were supposed to complete today is still ongoing. Resistance was higher than expected. But fortunately we've sent Alucard and Seras to end it. Expect it to be over in a hour."

"Good. It was time we showed those creatures who ruled this world."

bRoundstone Woods/b

It was one of the ancestral, magic-like forests you read about children fairy tales. Undisturbed by the elements of humanity and it's advancement from a tribe who was scared from the dark to a civillisation that began to venture out into space. But it's residents had endangered humans in the past and present, taking their children and converting those into their own, without reason or logic. Before the mission began, Integra researched the value the creatures had for humanity. There was none.

Thus the decision was made by the Hellsing Institute to wipe them out. All of them.

"Keep it up men. We're almost there." Captain Lethbridge-Stewart, but called Tommy by all but his mother, led his unit into the forest of wich half was already burning. The fire did most of the work, but there were determined stragglers who needed to be taken care of.

"Jenkins, on your right upper corner." The soldier called Jenkins leveled his MP5 towards the specified target and squeezed the trigger full. Leaves and branches were torn apart, until something heavy dropped down from the tree with a screech.

Jenkins hurried over to the fallen creature, emptied the rest of his clip into it's head and than returned to formation while taking out a new one.

"Confirmed kill, Captain."

"Alright Corporal, let's move on." Tommy tapped his earpiece and radioed the other units who entered the forest.

"Wolf and Ram units, this is Heart unit. What is your situation?"

"iThis is Wolf. We have cleared our section of the woods and await second phase./i"

"iThis is Ram. Corporal Blutch was attacked by the creatures, bastards nearly choked him with their petals. He survived but is returned to the APC's for medical care. We are still expierencing heavy winds but we've dropped enough of the cunts to drop it to bearable levels. We expect to be finished in ten minutes./i"

"Good. We'll be ready in five-" A massive windblast interrupted Tommy and flung him several metres backwards. His men were similairly attacked, for the expection of Jenkins who managed to insert his new magazine and fired on the lead creature who dropped with two rounds in it's knees and a classic Mozabique drill in the chest and head.

The other creatures weren't fond of that action, and casted the most powerful wind they ever done, to punish the human for killing one of theirs. The unfortunate Jenkins was hit by such a force that he was flung through the air as a leaf on the wind. Until he impacted against the nearest tree, and his spine snapped like a twig.

"Damnit!"

This was not good. One man down, and the rest were scattered, phazed and about to be overwhelmed. Tommy tried to stand up and regain control over the situation, but one of the creatures jumped on him and with strength that betrayed it's frail arms it slapped away the MP5 and began to grasp for Tommy's mouth. iNo thanks, I've seen what happens when you let one of your kind into their mouths/i. Tommy pulled out his P226 but the creature had enough expierence to know that such a device would be bad, and with one hand grabbed that of Tommy's.

The creature was too strong for the Captain to wrestle himself free, and barely managed to keep it's fingers from opening his mouth and kill like they usually did. Doubts about joining Hellsing were beginning to arise.

"Hey, I thought I told you assholes to wait for me!"

A gunshot followed and the creature on top of Tommy found itself to be hit in the neck, the second gunshot blew apart his head. The resulting pieces of fairy blood and bits of skull landing on Tommy didn't hinder him, as he was too glad to be alive. A few gunshots more, and the fairies began to retreat, their spirit broken for the moment.

"Where the hell were you!"

Though the new 'fresh veal' had been in the unit for only a week and technically only a civillian expert because of her never being in the armed forces, her attitude was bothersome and Tommy at times felt compelled to shoot her, if she wasn't a much better shot than him.

"Hey, go to Hell man! I taking a piss and you just walked on without me."

"Than let us know you...were taking a break instead of just shout 'See ya' and vanish!"

"Uh, Captain." His men had regained their strength and were standing again, but were slowly backing away.

"What, I need to teach her some...Oh, I see."

There were thousands of them now, likely gathered from all over England, Ireland, Scotland and even Wales. If the humans got serious, than so would the fairies. Tommy, the 'civillian expert' and the remaining soldiers formed a back-to-back circle as the horde slowly began to creep towards them.

"Bugger, 100 Bugger."

"Sir...orders?"

"I think in this situation, Sergeant Benton..there's only one thing to do." Tommy tapped his earpiece."You may fire, Miss Victoria."

"iUh, Okay!/i"

"DOWN!" Tommy shouted as he grabbed the woman and Sergeant Benton by the shoulders and pushed them to the ground, with the rest of the men following his example.

Seconds later, a cannon or something ivery/i close to it was fired. Two seconds later, piercing it's way through 600 metres of burning forest, a depleted uranium silver-tipped 30mm shell wrecked it's way through a entire line of fairies, leaving holes with the diametres of car wheels.

"WHAT THE F-!"

"SHUT IT! Uh, Miss Victoria...well done, but I think you should switch to the incendiary napalm rounds. This is crowd control."

"iAh..Sorry about that, gimme one more sec./i"

The following seconds were the figurative straw that broke the camel's back, or literaly incinerated a lot of fairies. Hundreds of child-like voices screamed as they were reduced to shrieking piles of ash. The rest just fled, fearing the flames. All that remained of the fairy population in the British island, fled while swearing revenge upon humanity and destroying it once and for all.

But even those faint hopes ended when they reached the other side of the burning woods, and saw the man in red standing in the way. Tipping his red fedora, the stranger smiled, and began to make steps forward towards the fairies.

The Fairies were not all-knowing or highly telepathetic. But they could recognize beings for what they were. And that ability wich had helped them in the past to detect new Chosen Ones, was now responsible for destroying the last bits of rationality and sanity they had left. As a swarm of vengeful locusts, they descended upon the man in red with every inch of hate and rage they could muster. As they assaulted, the man reached for something in his red coat.

"Well, it seems that I'm also a creature who preyed on humans. That's something... we had in common."

The man in red smiled.

Back at the APC's, Tommy was making a headcount. They lost one man, Corporal Jenkins, and a total of six injured, two heavily. It was worser than usual, but the stakes had been higher than just a Freak on a rampage. All things considered, they had been fortunate. At the briefing, Tommy feared it would become a unwinnable war of attrition, because how could you beat creatures from fairy tales? Quite easy, afterwards considered.

The explosion in the distance made everyone jump up and reach for their weapons. Because even a vampire like Alucard would have difficulty at defeating the entire fairy folk. But as clouds of smoke covered the burning remains of Roundstone Woods, no sound followed. Tommy was considering to leave inmediatly, in case Alucard lost and the fairies were out for revenge. In masses and in enclosed areas like the woods they may be easy pickings for gunfire and plain fire, in the open their stealth would negate the advantages of ranged weapons.

But than, through the shrouds of the smoke, a figure began to appear who with every step became more visible until he was finally Alucard himself. His fedora, the coat and even the boots were untouched, and the vampire grinned as if he just had a fun time. Wich he did.

He walked past the soldiers, past the APC's and past a expectful Seras Victoria with the oversized Harkonnen cannon, who than showed dissapointment at her master ignoring her, again. Alucard kept just walking until he faded away, a dramatic effect wich hides that he just took the easy and quickest route back to Hellsing Manor.

The 'civillian expert' tugged Tommy on his shoulder, requesting for a light. As he gave her one, she nodded towards Seras Victoria and the direction to where her master dissappeard.

"They're not human, are they?"

"No, they're definately not human."


	3. Chapter 3: London Goes To HellSing

**Chapter Two: London Goes to Hell-sing**

**Hellsing Manor**

After a few hours of sleep, a shower and a change of clothes that weren't drenched with sweat and covered with fairy intestines, Tommy was still unprepared for whatever Sir Integra had in store for him. She was likely displeased about the forest fire, since people tend to notice such things, especially when done with a massive fire and lots of explosions. A rundown house? No attention. Harbour warehouse? No response. Entire village? Difficult, but doable with the current terrorist threat. But what terrorists would feel the need to play World War Three in one of England's most ancient forests?

To make matters worse, a old woman arrived at the scene while he and the rest were packing everything into the APC's, and started to scream hysterically against the men about scaring away or possibly hurting the fairies. When Corporal Blutch couldn't restrain himself and remarked that she wouldn't have to worry, since they're too dead to feel pain, she went insane and eventually Tommy needed to call the police to take her away. Which led to a difficult discussion with the police to why there was a unregistered military at the burning remains of a once big forest.

"Hey Cap, watcha doin?"

And than there was the American girl, who's presence was still as pleasant as a Freak in a catholic school for girls. Thank God she wore a proper uniform, that she only kept on because it was too cold to wear her usual scantily attire and she didn't have money to afford new atrocious winter clothing.

"Heading for Sir Integra's office. She wants you there aswell. What happend, did you already commit a crime on British soil in your first weeks here?"

Her reaction was light, only a lifted middle-finger with a soundless '_Fuck you'_ coming from her mouth.

**Integra's Office**

Besides Integra, Walter was standing by, with the same non-expressing yet smiling face that every British bulter seemed to have.

"Captain Lethbridge-Stewart and...Miss Rebecca."

"It's actually Rev-"

"I do not care what you call yourself, it is already unfit for a person to have no surname so you will respond to your proper first name so that you have some semblance of a human being."

"..._bitch._"

Integra made a accusive glare towards Walter, who just shrugged his shoulders and pointed downwards, to the basement where the person who was responsible for hiring the woman was residing.

"Lets pretend you did not say that. But never mind. Back to the reason why you are here. We shall be leaving for London within the next half hour to attend a meeting at Canary Wharf."

"Canary Wharf ma'am? But that is Torchwood Tower."

"I'm aware of that, Captain. But changes in former-honourable traditions forced my presence there. That's all you need to know."

"One question still, what the hell is Torchwood? Is it a antique shop or something?"

Silence dawned into the room, and Integra Winsgate Hellsing took several moments to decide wether Rebecca was being serious in her stupidity or that she would order Captain Lethbridge-Stewart shoot the American for insubordination.

"It is a organisation that seeks out exterrestial threats and end them."

"Your sayin...they shoot little green men?"

"Yes. But for the last 40 years, that task was done by UNIT, another organisation but one who is publically known and thus limited in it's methods. But it has fallen on ill times after sustained losses in the last year, and Torchwood has replaced it."

Tommy found it uncomfortable when they spoke of UNIT. It was the one thing he rather not talked about, as it destroyed his relationship with his family and his grandfather in particular. His decision to join a mysterious and dark organisation like He

"Captain Lethbridge-Stewart. Prepare yourself for the journey to London."

"Certainly ma'am. Are we to come unarmed or is ma'am expecting resistance?"

"Unfortunately, no. But personal sidearms will do. That's all, Captain."

Tommy respectfully nodded while Rebecca disrespectfully nodded, and left. Somehow, going to Torchwood seemed to be scarier than facing fairies, yet at the same time a lot more fun.

**Torchwood Three, Cardiff**

The team that basically composed the entire department of Torchwood Three, had been called to a meeting by their superior. Though even Yvonne Hartman herself barely knew anything about the man called Jack Harkness, his team knew that if he called for a meeting, something worth paying attention has happend.

"Alright team, here's the drill." Jack's American accent was a oddity in a British organisation in a British country that worked to ensure British domination."Two hours ago I recieved a call from a old friend of mine who told me somewhat unsettling news. She's a fairy-watcher and.."

"Excuse me Jack, but a whát?" Suzie Costello spoke out, the everlasting critic.

"Fairy...watcher. Any way, she told me that last night when she going to take pictures of fairies at Roundstone Woods, someone burned it down."

"Yeah, I recall that seeing on the telly this morning. What does it got to do with us, since we ain't exactly firemen or the police?" The remark came from Owen Harper, the team's doctor and third-in-command.

"Because she saw the ones who did it. According to her several armoured vehicles, propably APC's, were present at the fire with a lot of armed men who looked like they were from the military. One of them even claimed to be responsible for the fire, in order to kill the fairies who resided there."

"..Okaaay. But what does the military burning down a forest to kill 'fairies', have to do with us?" Toshiko Sato, computer specialist and disbelieving hypocrite, wich was a rare specimen in a place like Torchwood.

"Fact is, that she managed to see a insignia on one of the soldiers. It was a squared red-black shield. With the name 'Hellsing' enscribed above it. Does that ring a bell?"

This caught the attention, and Jack couldn't help but bring a small grin at the suprise of his team.

"Hellsing? That paramilitary religious cult with that insane bitch?".

Jack wanted to retaliate that Suzie's own psychological profile wasn't that promising either, but it was too early in the morning for a knife fight.

"To be more exact, it's the Royal Order of Protestant Knights led by Sir Integral Fairbook Winsgate Hellsing."

"Thank you Ianto. Like said, it's our religious-fanatic cousin, who's focused on solving our domestic troubles like vampires, ghouls and other things that go bump in the night."

"Sounds like total crap. Vampires don't exist. Now, a alien lifeform that needs to feed on human blood to sustain itself and is vulnerable to silver and UV-radiation, that sounds more believable."

"Believe it Owen. Not all the scary stuff comes from space, and I'm not talking about Magaret Thatcher or Big Brother. There are things walking around here that could make Daleks shit themselves."

"Say Jack, not that I don't mind a nice conversation about vampires and fairies, but what does Hellsing have to do with us?"

"Today, a meeting will be held at Canary Wharf. Sounds pretty big, usually it takes place in the Tower of London with massive security. Hellsing will attend aswell. And I plan to make some trouble."

The team stared at their leader with blank stares. Though Jack Harkness usually comes with crazy schemes, going to London to their main office and start a fight with a organisation that sounds like to have considerable military assets. But than again, it has been quiet in Cardiff for a while and though they enjoyed spending the time with exploring their sexuality and messing around with alien tech, a change of scenery was appreciated.

And it would be nice to fuck around with the top-brass in Torchwood Tower, Hartman's personal palace.

"I think we could have a day-off after all the overwork.."

"I could see my girlfriend Lisa.."

"Torchwood would have some stuff that's worth seeing.."

"Harrods sounds like a good place to waste my salary."

With a smile, Jack followed his team as they hurried to get their things and prepare for the trip to London. Besides seeing Yvonne again, he was interested in meeting the new Hellsing. He heard it was a young woman nowadays. Quite a change from the last Hellsing he met back in WWII.

**A Bus Somewhere in England**

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No. If you ask again, I will kill you."

"Awww, come on bro. Your the only guy I can mess around with. All those other party poopers act like they're dead." With the exception of himself, nobody spoke or even made a sound on the bus.

"Because they are supposed to be dead, a fact I have repeated several times."

"Like fuckin hell they are, I personally made it so. Fuckas thought they could handle the Valentine Brothas, booyaaaaah!"

His elder brother rubbed his forehead while trying to think of a reason why he didn't kill him when they were still in the womb. That would have saved him twenty years of shame, agony and occasional depression. It almost prevented him from taking the offer and become immortal, as it would mean spending the rest of eternity with his brother. Almost, as he concluded that he could still just kill him when it became too unbearable. But that point was drawing near.

Especially now since his brother had watched Aliens the other night on the cable television and was busy walking back and forth through the bus motivating his 'troops' with altered lines from the movie.

"All right, cunts, what are you waiting for? Tasty virgin in bed? Another glorious day in the squad! A day in the Valentine Killer Squad is like a day on the Bronx. Every human a banquet! Every kill a highscore! Every formation a fuckin Spartan phalanx! I LOVE the killer squad!"

_Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him, ignore him..._

"I'm ready, man, check it out. I am the ultimate bad-ass! State-of-the-bad-ass-art! You do not want to fuck with me. Check it out. Hey, Luke, don't worry. Me and my squad of ultimate bad-asses will protect you."

"Jan. Brother. You have three seconds to stop or I will have to hurt you."

"Bro, It's a rescue mission, you'll love it. There's some juicy deskjob girls we have to rescue from their bored-ass lives. He-!" Jan found out that his brother wasn't lying, as he recieved a elbow in the throat faster than humans could percieve.

Luke continued to drive on to their target, pleased that the only sound that remained was the choked gurgles of his brother who rolled around spastic. The relative silence helped him to relax and appreciate the deep breath before the plunge. Not every day you get to kill a entire skyscraper.

**Torchwood Tower**

One Canada Square along with it's sibling towers were one of London's highlights and the example of what the future would bring. To Torchwood, it was home. With a staff over 800 individuals, it was the biggest and most important branch of the entire Torchwood Institute since it's creation at the Scottish estate of Torchwood House.

At it's helm was Yvonne Hartman. Graduated from Cambridge with a Ph.D in both politics and psychology, Hartman long tenures with both the UN and MI5 before being selected to run Torchwood by the Convention of Twelve, the people who rule the British Empire from the shadows. Being allowed in that circle of twelve was a honour too great to imagine. So, Yvonne was quite enthuastic as her plans worked and in the first time in nearly a 100 years, the members of the Round Table Conference had agreed to switch their usual meeting grounds.

To be exact, they were coming to Torchwood Tower. Today.

In her office at the top of the building, Vyonne could help herself but try and look down her window, hoping to spot the arriving cars and see who has arrived. While it was already agreed, fear inside her cautioned that the meeting could be cancelled or delayed for another time in fear of the new meeting place, wich was considerably different than the old ones. One Canada Square was a huge difference with Hellsing Manor or the Tower of London, and not only in height.

"Director?"

Yvonne quickly backed away from the window, feeling ashamed for acting so childish and prayed it wasn't a new intern who had come to her office. Fortunately, it was Dr Rajesh Singh, likely the most brilliant man in Britain.

"Ah, Dr Singh. I pray you have rested well for this occasion. It's only the first time the people with power visit our headquarters and see what the bloody hell we are doing here."

"Well, I can assure you that their eyeballs will likely pop from amazement before they even get to the water cooler." Singh said with a chuckle.

"I hope your right, Dr Singh. Because this facility costs 500 million pounds per year to maintain. And while we have obtained many alien technologies, we do not even know how to operate a third of them, as even with the funds and minds we've collected it's a incredibly difficult task without the original owners. Not to mention the costs to build this place, without the intended results."

"I can assure you that the machines developed to exploit the energy of the Rift are being tested as we speak."

"Assure, assure. No more assurances Doctor. I want proper results. Or your head." Yvonne's typical friendly voice changed to icey water.

"Now, I will go downstairs and greet the members before we head to the conference floor on the 48th as the 49th is in reconstruction. It will take at least 30 minutes to get through the basic reports and decisions, but when I bring them up here to witness the product of 7,5 billion pounds. If it's a white wall, than they will see how the smartest man of Europe can lose his job and career and future in under three seconds."

"..I understand, Director."

"No, you don't Singh. But you will."

**Torchwood Entrance**

In order to for the meeting to go as smoothly as possible, Torchwood had their contacts in the British goverments to close the area of Canary Wharf off-limits to civillians, with the coverup story of fire drills.

Cars rolled up to the entrance of One Canada Square, and all shared only three traits. They were black, they were old and expensive, and British. Except for the first trait, so were their owners who ventured into the building uninterested in it's design. With one exclusion, or rather said two.

"So, this is Torchwood? Looks like they got more big ones than Oprah Winfrey."

"Yes, the Torchwood One branch has considerable funds to rely on. And we do not. So 'no' again as I said in the car. We will not acquire a tank, even if it offers more protection and 'helluva lot' more firepower. Nor will you be given a replica of Alucard's and Seras's personal weapons."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because besides being terribly expensive and using expensive ammo, they weren't built for humans beings to use."

"Hell, I've used a lot of things that weren't meant for human use."

"That...that sounded just so incredibly wrong." Tommy shook his head while Rebecca gave a sinister grin.

"Now if you could act as adults for a moment, we will go inside. And remember the instructions. You will remain here with the reception until we come down or trouble arises."

"Hey, how do we know if shit is hitting the fan?"

"Oh don't worry. You will know, Miss Rebecca." Walter's good-humoured expression betrayed nothing of both the fear and amusement that would come from a bored Rebecca in the reception of their greatest rival after Iscariot.The Round Table members and Integra assembled in the hall and made their version of small talk, until one of the elevators opened and Yvonne Hartman came out, practically shining with a huge smile and radiating warmth.

"Gentlemen, I am so pleased you have been willing to have Torchwood Tower as our new gathering grounds. Your safety and that of the meeting contents is ensured by all means available by the Torchwood Institute."

"Than let us hope that Torchwood is adequate for the task. Lead on, Miss Hartman" Sir Islands, leader of the Convention of Twelve and in effect leader of Great Britain. He was uncomfortable about the location, as he missed the shadows.

"Very well, Sir Islands." Vyonne did not lose her smile or cool."If you would follow me gentlemen, to the elevators where we will go to the 48th floor and begin the meeting."

The group headed for the elevators, minus Integra Hellsing who stopped and pulled out a cigar and was only looking for a lighter, when one was stuck up before her face. The hand who held the lighter, belonged to a dashing-looking man, if Integra cared about looks or even men.

"Need a light, ma'am?" The voice had a American accent, though not as heavy dialected as that of Rebecca.

"Thank you, Man who seeks out women and provide lighters for them." Her response was dry, but she was still thankful.

"No problem. That's unofficial our motto at Torchwood, 'Provide any service with a smile'." Jacked added, while indeed producing a genuine smile.

"That sounds better than your official one, 'If it's alien, it's ours'."

"But it's true. But let me introduce myself. Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood Three branch. And you must be Sir Integra Winsgate Hellsing, am I right?"

"You forgot Fairbook, but the rest is correct. Is this information from a earlier encounter or the Torchwood database?"

Jack smiled. It was rare nowadays he met a woman who was both intelligent and good-looking, but than again, he used to able to pick from every timeperiod and place in the universe. But also as a man who seen it all, he felt a strength within Integra that even more rare. Along with the prediction that there was likely nothing in the universe that could scare her.

"Sir Integra? We need to hurry." Walter was already standing by the elevator that somehow was able to fit over 15 people, comfortably.

"Fine. It's good to meet you Captain Harkness, even this short. I trust I will be seeing you again?"

"You can count on that, Miss Hellsing."

Integra nodded and headed for the elevator. Jack watched as the doors closed and the lift went up to the 48th. He heard rumours about these meetings, wich like Torchwood, didn't exist. Not even for Torchwood staff. Jack did not know how long the meeting would last, but he had all the time in the world to wait for Miss Hellsing to show up again.

"You can definately count on that..."

**Torchwood Reception**

Jack Harkness turned to his people with the orders to stay put until the meeting was over. Instead, they were gone. From his left eye corner he could see Owen and Toshiko leaving the building with high-pitched chatter about Harrods and something about a pub. From his right, he could see Suzie and Ianto going into a elevator while the words 'Lisa' and 'plasma-conducting emitting weapon' echoed.

Jack sighed, with his eyes closed. Though he has never been sick in his life, besides the Rigellian flu once, he wished that there was a doctor around. The right kind of doctor.

"Rebecca, zip that jacket up, right now!"

"It's warm in here, smartass."

"I do not bloody care if we were in the deepest pit of hell at the moment. You zip up that jacket, that's an order!"

Jack turned to a bench that was reserved for waiting visitors, and noticed the two soldiers with the Hellsing badge on their shoulder sleeves and red berets. One of them was a very attractive Asian female in her twenties who had opened up her jacket, and revealed a rather well developed and sun-tanned abdomen, and nothing else for the exception of a black sports bra. The Causcasian soldier next to her seemed to be of the same age and looked rather handsome aswell in Jack's opinion, though he seemed both embarrased and angry at his companion's near-exhibitionism.

That looked as promising prey to Jack who believed that with a bit of luck and freemindedness that could also be achieved with lots of alcohol, they both may be willing to join him for a drink, in his room at the local Holiday Inn.

"Hello there. I'm Jack. Jack Harkness. I work for Torchwood, but other than that I'm an okay guy."

The two Hellsing soldiers looked at him, one with suprise at the finding of another American working for a different creepy British organisation, and the other with relief and suspicion.

"Greetings. I'm Captain Lethbridge-Stewart and this is Reb-"

"Only the lame boring people like the British call me Rebecca. You can call me Revy."

"Revy it is than. And...Lethbridge-Stewart? Not thé Lethbridge-Stewart, I may hope?"

"No...if you are talking about the famous UNIT commander, than I'm not it. I'm his grandson."

"Hell no, I meant the guy who got the rank of Captain at the age of 24, in the freakin SAS no less!" Jack found it helpful to keep up to date in basically everything. From gardening to military records.

"...Yes, that I am. Yet, I still joined Hellsing instead of UNIT or Torchwood, or even some rich multinational corporation. Do you find that amusing?"

"Hell no! Heck, I used to have a much more pleasing job, not to mention more money-raising than this current shtick with Torchwood. I would join Hellsing, if they didn't burn down entire forests on random."

"I wouldn't know what you are talking about. Especially the part of 'random'."

**A Bus Near Canary Wharf**

In spite of common sense, Luke allowed his younger brother to drive the last few minutes to their target. Besides being a bad and aggresive driver, Jan also discovered the bus's inbuilt cinema system and decided to entertain their 'passengers' with the movie Madagascar. The problem was still that they were too dead to respond to it. Wich led to Jan trying to speak for the entire bus.

"Dude, this bus kicks ass! And I can watch Madagascar while I'm driving."

_"The penguins are going, so why can't I?"_

_"Marty, the penguins are psychotic."_

"Hahahahahaha! Bro, those animals are so fuckin funny, they make me wanna merge without looking!"

"DON'T-...Ugh, never mind."

Taking the exit towards Canary Wharf, the bus rammed a black taxicab against the pavement and caused it to crash into a newsstand, killing the owner and a customer who was getting the Sun, instantly. Normally, for such a act of drawing attention in the middle of a major city, Luke would have killed his brother. But since they were minutes away from causing so much death that the Titanic Sinking would resemble a toddler drowning in a pond, it didn't matter much.

"Oh man, that just totally fuckin rocked. GTA Motherfucker! Ten points."

"Oh SHUT UP!"

"Bro, what's wrong with you man, eh?"

"You always get so annoying before work. I said it before and I know I'll propably say it again. Learn to work quietly."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard that all before, I know. Christ."

One Canada Square, but identified as Torchwood Tower in their briefing, came into view and was nearing with a high speed. The security checkpoint with a London police officer, wich was located only ten metres away from the entrance, halted the bus.

"You have no excuse to screw up this time Jan."

"Screw up? That's never gonna happen bro. This shit is going to be a cakewalk."

The police constable walked up to the door of the bus, and waited until Luke opened it and stepped outside.

"Excuse me? Sorry sir, but this building is off-limits, I gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Oh I'm sorry, eheh. We're on a sightseeing tour, we're taking a tour to see all the modern London towers. See some famous constructions in the London area and this one is our first stop."

"What are you talking about? This place is..."

"Isn't this place supposed to be open for the public? I know all the people on our tourbus have just been dying to take a look inside."

The constable looked at Luke with puzzlement and confusion, and than looked at the bus. Not sure what to do, he reached for the radio and contacted the Torchwood security staff inside the building.

"This is Main Entrance. I have some suspicious persons here. Please send-"

A loud wet crack followed, and the radio contact went dead. Like the constable, who was lying against a parked car. His skull and brains splattered all over the car windows.

"Oh, Jan. I think it's time to start the tour."

**Several Minutes Earlier**

**The Meeting, 48th Floor, Torchwood Tower**

Leaving Walter behind at the door, Integra was the last to enter the conference room. Naturally, and not only because she was the youngest by far and the one of only two women in the council, everyone looked at her as she stood before the Round Table Knights and took her seat. Everyone kept looking at her without saying a word, so Integra took the first step herself.

"It's rare these days for the knights of the Round Table to wear their swords..."

Yvonne gave a amused look and wanted to retort with something sarcastic and witty, before Sir Islands spoke before she did.

"Sir Integra Winsgate Hellsing. The modern knights have more effective weapons than swords these days. But lets not waste valuable time and get down to business. Sir Integra, according to your report, many of the creatures you have been encountering recently are man-made vampires due to these Freak-chip devices."

"The mission of the Hellsing Organisation is to end all unearthly activity of all non-human creatures. In the proces of completing this mission, we're expected to have many direct encounters and battles with vampires. But it is not our responsiblity to investigate the mechanism of these chips or determine who is distributing it." Integra's head turned to the thin man who was the head of MI5, Britain's internal security.

"We're in the midst of conducting our investigation." The MI5 director replied.

"A investigation during wich you let the enemy kill your spy. Or did you recently fail to see him floating in the Thames with a Union Jack stuck in his heart?"

"You misunderstand your situation, Sir Integra. Our Round Table conference, is to share power and information with each other, in loyality and reverance of our Majesty."

"..I understand."

"No Sir Integra, I don't think you understand." The slight overweight and moustached man speaking now, was the head of the Royal Navy Intelligence Agency "See, your activities have been a bit too 'flash' of late, non-human creatures have existed since ancient times and Great Britain has managed to keep this quiet, controlled and contained up until recently. Your Hellsing organisation is leaving a stain on our illustrious history. Hellsing has been too loud and too public. One could wonder if your qualified for your job."

"The enemy is armed with powerful weapons, we've had no choice. As for information control, I believe that is the job of those in control of the media, not ours.."

"That is besides the point. There is a limit to how much information that can be supressed."

"So your telling me that Torchwood can shoot down all the alien craft they want without public knowledge, yet your are incapable to provide the same cover for my organisation?"

"Your overstepping yourself Integra! Your father would have never been so irresponsibly brash."

"My father...was my father." And even with so much opposition, Integra couldn't help but smirk a little.

At the other end of the table, Yvonne Hartman did all she could to resist a victorious giggle. Deep inside, she thanked the weirdo that was responsible for this current crisis. While nervous at first, all her fears were washed away by the Round Table's one-man stand against Integra and her religious gun-toting cult. More heat on her meant less on that of Torchwood. If this continued, she could even make a suggestion to cut Hellsing's budget in order to prevent Integra from doing more damage. Wich would be the first step into completely removing the Hellsing Organisation from the Round Table.

All thinks considered, Yvonne wondered how this glorious day could possibly go bad.


	4. Chapter 4: Dance of the Freaks

**Torchwood Reception**

The moment the radio contact was broken with the constable outside, especially with the mentioning of 'suspicious men', the men occupying the security control centre reached for the red button to sound the alarm of intruder alert. But it was already too late.

"Gentlemen, start your screaming!"

The tour bus crashed with a unstoppable velocity through the glass doors before the shields, made from a metal that could stop everything from bullets and explosives to most known alien energy weaponry, dropped and too late shielded the building from a threat that was already inside. The builders and designers of the defensive mechanism couldn't be blamed. They thought that anyone who wanted to attack Torchwood would have at least the decency to cause wide-spread panic, bit of a villainous monologue and at least some pre-warning.

They didn't expect a tour bus coming through the door.

The driver of the tourist vehicle did not take the effort of hitting the brakes, and in fact pushed the gas pedal down even further and the bus slid through the reception as a humpback whale on ice. A Torchwood worker, who remained standing in shock at the sight of the bus, was run down and crushed under its wheels. Another, this time a soldier, was quicker and jumped away but was still hit full by the bus's bumpers and broke his spine upon impact.

The tour bus of death's ride finally came to a end when it crashed against a wall at the other end of the doors, with a savage metal-twisting crunch that would have caused massive injury and death to humans, if any had been seated inside. And slowly, the shock and stunning that had overcome to the most of the people inside the reception, faded away in return of surprise and disbelief.

"Oh my God, how could that..." Someone mumbled while another called for an ambulance. To which another replied that calling a ambulance to Torchwood was a breach of security. The last one called out for a paramedic to help the injured on the bus.

The door on the forward part of the bus, was violently slammed away and a person was coming out, causing some of the Torchwood staff to draw a weapon. A Torchwood desk worker ran over to the person to see if he was alright, but halted as the stranger began to chuckle and than laugh out loud.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Aw man, that was fuckin' awesome. Did you fucktards see that shit? Coolest thing I ever done in my life, and trust me on this, I have seen loads of nasty shit."

"Sir?" The worker drew closer, convinced that Jan was in some sort of shock. "..Are you alright? Do you require a doctor?"

"Nah, man. I don't need a doc as I'm feelin' better than ever. You people could use one. Or better said, a coroner...hahahahaha!" Jan brought up his hand and snapped his fingers,

A gunshot echoed through the reception, and the Torchwood worker blinked his eyes once, before dropping onto his knees and fall to the side. All due to the bullet that went through the centre of his eyes and scattered his brains over the floor. Now, everyone was again in a state of shock at this act of brutality, and the gun barrel that was sticking out of a window on the side of the bus.

"Or should I say get the janitor, as this shit is gonna ruin the carpet."

Dozens more gun barrels appeared from the tour bus windows that slided open. The workers and guards froze, and their legs felt like jelly. The soldier who had been standing behind the worker widened his eyes and gasped.

"You look a bit pale, sure you're alright dude?"

The soldier took a step backward and reached for his sidearm.

"Ciao!" Jan chuckled and snapped his fingers again.

All the weapons on the bus opened fire, and a hailstorm of lead ravaged the reception hall. Concrete, glass and flesh were torn asunder in a cloud of dust and red mist. Bodies were ravaged beyond recognition before they hit the ground in a pool of their own blood and limbs. The guns kept firing even when the last person in sight dropped in a fountain of blood, and Jan angrily commanded them to stop firing.

"Stop! Stop it already! For fuck's sake, stop goddamnit!"

The last echoes of the gunfire faded away, and the dust clouds began to settle, revealing a bloodbath of unheard size and degree. Remains of Torchwood staff lay in bloodied chunks with frozen expressions of surprise and pain.

"Ugh, stupid sonsofbitches. But hey, an experiment needs testing, even if they are just a bunch worthless cannon fodder. That reminds me..."

Jan reached for a pair of P90's, specially modified and enlarged by a expensive gunsmith he and his brother visited. The first human they didn't kill, as his shit was just too good to have them replaced with inferior stuff from the next gunsmith they would need to seek and kill after this job was done.

And to his amused surprise, some Torchwood guards appeared to have the intelligence to seek cover behind desks or pillars when the onslaught started. Now, they reappeared from their cover points and returned fire. This was D-grade comedy stuff to Jan.

"Jesus Christ. You suck. You all fuckin suck! But as long as I can keep killin' and keep drinkin', whatever works is cool. Killing Torchwood, killing whatever. Fuck it man,** I'll just kill them all!**"

The younger Valentine screamed and laughed as he ripped apart the surviving soldiers with his weapons, as if this was just an overly realistic game of Counter-Strike. Only Jan was using God Mode and other cheats. And he had help with him.

From the bus, men descended in heavy body armour and with large riot shields of steel. The only thing unhuman about them was the movement of their bodies, and the dead cold eyes that were filled with hunger and abyss. Though stiff and rigid, they began to move in formation behind Jan, unleashing their own hellfire with the MP5's in their hands. They were ghouls, mindless undead minions of the vampire that created them. Their shields had the same mystic inscription all over.

_Boo Dee_

_PeoPle_

_MurDer_

_PeoPle_

The surviving Torchwood soldiers fired back, but their bullets were deflected against the riot shields or impacted without effect upon the body armour, the ghouls ignoring the bone fractures they caused. One ghoul was hit in the neck by a well-aimed three-round burst and his head came off, only hanging by a thread. Yet the ghoul kept marching forward and returned fire.

The soldiers were riddled with bullets, and fountains of blood followed that reached so high that they even touched the ceilings, and the resulting drops made it look like the ghouls were walking through a rain of blood.

**48th Floor**

The lights flickered for a moment and a sudden slight tremor was felt by all the Round Table members. They were questioning Integra on the reasons why Roundstone Woods had to be burned down, when it happened.

"What is this?" Sir Islands asked with suspicion to Yvonne, who was as surprised as the rest of the Round Table.

"What is going on, Miss Hartman?"

"I..." Before she could answer that she knew as much as they, the intercom sparked and a hysterical voice came through.

"_Director Hartman! This is the security post on the 3rd floor!_"

"What? What is happening down there?"

"_We're under attack! By a force of unknown size and origin!_"

"What did you just say?"

Yvonne's veins turned to ice and the world seemed to stop moving for a moment. An attack? Here? Torchwood? Nobody knows of this place? How could they? This is Torchwood. But how than? For a second, she glared to Integra, who showed the least emotion of the entire Round Table but still looked worried by the sounds coming from the intercom. Yvonne wondered if Integra was insane enough to do such a thing. But unlikely, she did not have nearly the numbers to take on Torchwood Tower.

"_We can't make contact with the outside world! We are engaged in heavy fighting at the main entrance and casualties are high, uncountable at the moment! And the automatic security systems have closed off all exits!_"

"Good, because you weren't thinking about leaving, were you?"

"_What? Uh…No, Director b-but we are being slaughtered downstairs!_"

"Well that isn't bloody going to change if you just keep sitting on your arses! Now do something and clear those enemies from Torchwood!"

"_Y-yes Director._" The man on the other end of the line was terrified, but too confused to know from who to be scared of most. The unknown intruders below, or his master above.

Yvonne turned the Round Table, forcibly bringing up a smile.

"I wouldn't worry about those gentlemen, our security forces will have that solved in a few minutes. Now, where were we?"

The rest of the Round Table gazed at her, unsure to be shocked by her nonchalance or appraise her cool handling of the situation. Sir Islands looked with suspicion, and Integra with annoyance.

"Are you sure that the situation is under control? After all, with the exits closed and us being on the highest floors, there's no escaping."

"...Sir Integra, your confidence may be low but mine is not. Torchwood is quite capable of handling minor threats."

**Torchwood Reception**

The ghouls roamed the ground floors, killing all who remained after the initial massacre. And than ate their flesh, devouring without table manners. Teeth embedded themselves into soft skin and pulled until it tore open and allowed blood and insides to spill free.

"Okay guys, two minutes break and than up the stairs. I know your hungry after that long bus ride, but we got a long way to go and much more yummy meatbags to eat."

A lone ghoul scurried through the remains that were being consumed, in seeking of a untouched body to feast on. After searching the main floor, he went over to a bench on which a person was seated, apparently dead from the bullet holes in his chest. Satisfied that this person was still fresh and unspoiled, the ghoul opened his jaws and closed in for the bite.

Until the 'dead' person stuck a pistol in the ghoul's mouth.

"No sweets before dinner, honey."

The bullet blasted the decayed brains and the ghoul fell backwards with a soundless fashion. The man who was supposed to be dead jumped up while behind the bench a woman and another man in military attire appeared.

"RUN FOR THE DOORS!"

Jack Harkness led the way to the entrance that led to the staircases, with Tommy and Rebecca close behind. Ghouls who were the closest to the three stopped their feasting and turned to attack the survivors, but in return were unnaturally accurately shot in the face by Rebecca who had drawn a pair of Beretta 92F's from shoulder holsters. Tommy dropped himself on one knee and grabbed a G36 from the floor, while swiftly ramming the stock into the face of the ghoul who was eating the liver of the rifle's previous owner.

Jan watched the escape with amusement, as those three were the first with some sense in their noggin. Still, he would kill them in the end, but it'd be a fun trip towards it. However, he did not require three people to extend the fun, and drew his P90 upon the escaping as they were nearly to the doors that led to the stairs.

"Jan! What are you doing?!" The salvo was off by the sudden distraction, and the bullets shattered a glass information panel next to Tommy who took a duckroll and than ran forward into the temporary safety of the stair house. Jan turned to his brother Luke, with anger.

"Bro, what the fuck! I just nearly nailed that cocksucker over there until you suddenly threw off my aim, asshole."

"Stop playing around, we have work to do. Take the ghouls and go upstairs until you have killed everyone, including the Round Table members."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it...but hey! What the fuck are you gonna do if I gotta do all the dirty work?"

"Wait."

"Wait, for who? The fuckin Pope?"

"For Him. He would do the same for me."

"You mean Big Red? That bloodsucker ain't coming, this ain't his building."

"He will come. I know that since I changed into this. We will meet, we will battle and one of us will take the position of most powerful vampire on this dirtrock for eternity. And I'm betting it's me. Now go."

"Geez, you take this vampire stuff too big man, nobody is gonna stop us. Certainly not another dead sucker who dresses like Prince with a fetish for red."

"...Just get going, you redundant imbecile."

Jan smirked, and snapped his fingers which brought the ghouls from their afternoon meal and back into formation. Resting the P90's on his shoulders, he whistled the A-Team theme song, while heading for the stairs himself.

Luke stayed behind in the reception hall as it emptied, leaving him alone with the dead. It was peaceful. Than, he felt something. It wasn't a real feeling, more like a coldness that prickled the hairs on his neck. And it was coming from one of the elevators. Luke felt drawn to it as if it was magnetism, and wandered over to the lift, whose doors suddenly opened without Luke even had pressed a button. He stepped inside against all common sense, and did not wonder why the elevator selected a floor by itself and highlighted it on the selection board.

**Floor 13**

That slightly surprised Luke, as almost all the buildings with more than 13 floors, removed the number from the listing. Superstition and all. According to the official tour guide, 'One Canada Square' did have a 13th floor, but used it to store the air conditioning equipment. As if in a place like Torchwood Tower.


	5. Chapter 5: They Just Keep Killin' Suzie

**Torchwood Stairhouse**

The three survivors of the massacre downstairs ascended the steps with a fear-empowered speed. Professional fear, that is. Not the girlish Ah-He-Might-Kill-Us fear. It's the He-Will-Kill-Us. Big difference.

By the time they halted, they reached the 11th floor, which was not even nearly high enough. Down below, they could hear the screaming and the gunfire, until it stopped by an even more scary silence. Than, the sound of stomping feet filled the stair house.

Rebecca looked down below, with anger and despair, and fired several rounds downwards for good measure, though the bullets even if they hit would struck without effect.

"Goddamnit, what are those fuckers!"

"Ghouls." Tommy and Jack answered at the same time, and the Hellsing Captain turned to the Torchwood one, with surprise.

"How did you..?"

"Long story, about sixty years long. But first, let's get the hell out of here."

"To where? There's gonna be a limit to what Torchwood could build in floors, and we can't Marry fuckin' Poppins our way out of this building!"

"There is a central storage facility on the 30th. The Torchwood stuff is there, all the alien tech they got their hands on and researched there. Most of the stuff is useless, but I do think they got some weapons there, or at least that is what Suzie says. Hopefully something with enough juice to clear these bastards from the building."

"And if there's not enough 'juice', Captain?"

"Than we're screwed. But hey that's common in our line of work."

"Than let's get a move on. Hurry up Rebecca."

The two men continued their run up the stairs, while Rebecca reluctantly followed as her mood deteriorated with the second. This wasn't a fight, this was a one-sided slaughter. Though she didn't mind one-sided slaughters. That was mostly because she was doing the slaughtering.

She would ask for a pay raise with Tommy after this ordeal was over, as she was dead sure that she would survive this. After all, she was too pretty to die.

**Round Table Conference, 48th Floor**

The tremors that followed the heavy fighting below, were not unnoticed by the Round Table, and most of them looked worried and nervous. The only ones who weren't were Sir Islands, Sir Integra and Yvonne Hartman. The first two kept looking at her, while she kept on smiling back. Sir Penwood, whose nerves took control over his voice, said what most people were thinking at the table.

"Director Hartman! When will you admit that there is a serious security problem below and that we need to take actions?"

"Security problem? Have I not told you that it is being dealt with as we speak? In fact, I expect security to report that the situation is over in less than a minute."

It was less than a minute.

"_DIRECTOR! We are done for! The enemy has overrun us and they're-they're-No! Ack...AAAAAAAR-!_" The line went dead.

"Security? Security! What is going on, report your status! Security! Oi!"

But than Yvonne felt like landing in a real bad nightmare as the line sparked back to life. With a different host.

"_Hello? is this thing on? Alright! This is a shout out to all our listeners in the Round Table conference, and a special hello to that whoring little bitch Miss Hartman, Can you hear me?! We are the Valentine Brothers! I'm Jan Valentine, and it is really nice to meet you._"

In the background, noises of unknown source were being made.

"_We appreciate you for joining us on this late lunch, as we are currently feasting on the delicious taste of the Torchwood membership. Like this fine example here in my hand, called...Costello, S according to the nametag on her body, or what's left of it anyway. S must stand for Sweet, as its finger-licking gooooood._"

The curious sounds on the background became louder, and it did not take long for the Round Table to realize what the last words meant. It was the sounds of ghouls gnawing, biting and devouring human flesh. Bones snapped as the undead broke apart ribcases to get to the remaining innards. Skin was torn like silk and blood spilled down on the floor like milk. But worst of all, the chewing on the organs and bits of legs and arms, belonging to the bodies of the Torchwood staff.

"T-They are eating...my people." Yvonne could not comprehend such...inhumanity, such savagery that was even below that of animals, as they only ate to survive. These monsters ate to satisfy their lust for blood.

Integra bit on her teeth, preventing herself from disconnecting the line or say something to stop it. Even if these people were not under her command, they had been servants of the Queen, like herself. Than Jan talked again, apparently finished the 'snack' that was Costello's head.

"_..For now, we highly recommend pissing yourself, followed by a course of praying to your impotent god. And then cowering in a corner, always good. But if you act now, there's still time for an old fashioned suicide! **THANK YOU LONDON! WE LOVE YOU! GOOD NIGHT!**_"

The line disconnected, and thus ending all the hopes for rescue in the room. The Round Table members looked at each other with fear, or in Islands and Integra's cause, grave unconcern. Yvonne looked down to the carpet, unable to accept what happened. Nobody could hurt Torchwood. Nobody.

**13th Floor**

The elevator doors opened and to Luke's surprise, nobody had filled the lift with bullets or toxin gas. Not that it would have mattered, but it was strange. Nonetheless, Luke left the elevator, but this time was not surprised by the fact that it was not a storage place for air-conditioning equipment. In fact, there was not even any sign of this being a floor in a building, as it more resembled the interior of a underground bunker.

The area outside the elevator was a hall, which contained more than the one elevator door, making it the only entrance in or out of the facility. A corridor led further into the now-suspicious floor and a normal person would have gone back into the elevator and never return. Not with a platoon of soldiers covering him.

"Interesting."

With a calmness that came from immortality, the Valentine brother went further into the corridor that had a T-split at the end. The corridor he was in, was almost brand-new and modern decorated. For the exception of one thing.

A late 19th century painting of Queen Victoria, of the House of Hannover.

Luke stopped and turned to observe the painting more closely. There was something about that painting, and not only its likely extreme expensive price tag and the fact it was hanging in a deserted part of a skyscraper, instead of a high-security museum or private collection. It had something to do with the details.

Like the shimmering of the entire painting and the revelation that it in fact was an identical holographic copy of a real painting. Quite state-of-the-art stuff. Like the gargantuan drill-like device behind it, who seems to be powered by some blue radiating energy stored in conduits placed all around it. It was obviously a booby-trap, but Luke could not help himself but admire the effort and money put into this thing.

The next moment, the device activated and scorched most of the corridor with an intense blue light, which disappeared as soon as it appeared. The entire corridor was set aflame, and the only visible remains of Luke were several floating shreds of burning white cloth. As the flames began to die down, a door that was similarly camouflaged as the painting, opened and several Torchwood guards came out with their weapons drawn.

"Did we get him? Did anyone get him?"

"Shut up. Check it out."

Two of the guards stepped closer to the spot where Luke had been standing, but found nothing more than the scorched rags of his white long coat. It seems like the field testing of the Quantum Matter Load Particle Launcher, more commonly referred as the Q-Gun, had worked. Most of the corridor was turned black and at ground zero the floor had even turned into glass.

The guards felt relieved, as after witnessing the carnage downstairs, they had no desire to fight such a monster on their own. The guard looked at his companion with satisfaction, but moved his head away when he thought he saw something in the corner of his eye, like a flare of light.

_Nothing. It was nothi-_. The guard's head fell apart, with the last expression of surprise still on it as the other half dropped to the floor and blood sprayed wildly from the cut. The other guard jumped backwards from the sudden and brutal death, and as the lifeless body of the other fell into a pool of his own blood, the guard saw Luke Valentine standing with his back towards him, holding a blood-stained knife.

"..W-what the fuck are you!"

The guard fired his G36 on Luke, who casually looked back, and than was gone from sight. The entire 30-round magazine of the assault rifle was emptied in seconds on full-automatic. But the guard still did not hit a single thing.

Unlike his opponent, who again has his back turned, but this time behind the guard, holding a knife by his throat.

"Much too loud..."

A sudden flash of light, and Luke was somewhere else while leaving the guard standing. A moment later, the guard almost seemed to explode, as his limbs and torso had been severed. A flood of blood came towards Luke, who evaded it with nonchalant ease.

Down the corridor, the remaining guards watched in terror towards the slaughter. And opened fire upon Luke who smirked, before vanishing into a invisible blur that went past all the bullets. The rifles kept firing, tearing apart everything in the corridor that wasn't already destroyed by the Q-Gun. But than suddenly, like magic, Luke appeared within their midst. Before the shocked guards could turn away their weapons, Luke moved and a series of flashes followed that at first did nothing. Than another series of flashes followed.

Than like the first two soldiers of Torchwood, the men fell apart in a pile of limbs and torsos, spraying blood all over. And the one who did it, as calm as he would be at a tea party, hovering in mid-air as he moved too fast for even gravity to catch him.

Luke felt like the eye within the storm, in complete serenity in opposite of his environment. Than a horror of the modern world rose, the sound of a cellular. Sighing, he touched the ground again and took out the cellular. As he answered, the bodies of the dead finally hit the ground with a wet smack.

"What?"

"_Hello, hello, bro? Can you hear me?_"

**10th Floor**

The floor served as a secondary barracks, and the staff and guards of at least six floors had gathered there to make a stand. Now, they just a pile of bodies for Jan to sit on as his ghouls renewed their efforts to stuff their stomach with as much meat before they burst.

"This is Jan, conqueror and butcher of the Torchwood Pencil Army, ah yeah! Just wanna let you know that the first ten floors have been cleared of just about living and breathin'. We're gonna move up to the top floors and bust into that council room on the 48th and fuckin murder that bitch and those geriatrics."

"_Proceed as planned. Do not let your guard down._"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever man. See ya."

**13th Floor**

"I am about to head further into the building."

Luke closed the cellular, and noticed the drop of blood on his sleeve. It irritated him, as it was both a ruining of the fine fabric, and a possible sign that he is not fast enough, yet.

But than again the magnetic-like pull drew him to the other corridor and whatever that lay beyond that. It was like he was born for following this path. But whatever waited on the end of that path, he would face it. And fight it, if necessary. Victory was inevitable.

"I'm coming."

And as both brothers went on to meeting their destiny, the floors below them had countless gallons of blood seeping down through the walls and floor and holes it could drain through. Below at the reception, the blood was already beginning to form a sizable pool.

And as destiny or wealth was a magnet to some, blood was too a magnet, but for only one in the entire world. Weathermen at the BBC would face another wave of insults and motions of distrust from their audiences. They promised a clear sunny day. But the temperature dropped to near winter-chill and dark clouds began to gather around Canary Wharf.

And outside London, in the deep underground basement of a ancient manor, a man was sitting on a chair, holding a wine glass filled with a crimson liquid that was not wine, and smiled.

"This is getting fun..."


	6. Chapter 6: Island of War

**Mombassa Port, Kenya**

The climate was hot and humid, a combination that drove even the natives mad on occasions. For foreigners from afar, it could kill them, especially when out in the jungles.

But for some reason, Pip Bernadotte, who was born and raised in the green fields of France, felt comfortable in it. Even when the sweat drenched his entire camosuit in ten minutes after drying and was forced to drink gallons of expensive drinkable water per hour to prevent dehydration, he liked it. Even now, when the heat made his left eye socket ache horribly, behind the eyepatch.

It had been two days since he and the remains of the Wild Geese left Uganda, leaving a left eyeball and a whole lot of good men behind, destined to either burn in the fires used to dispose of the bodies or left to rot amidst the trees and grass. Now, while his troops regained their strength and made themselves ready for their next journey, Pip stood near the docks of the African port city and watched over the blue ocean abroad.

"Captain?"

Pip's half day-dreaming, half sight-admiring was interrupted by one of his lieutenants, Nelson. Nelson was a middle-aged American who used to be a nicely and gentle stock broker at Wall Street. Until his eight-year old daughter was killed, and mentally broke down because of it. A day after the funeral and without warning, he took up all the money on his bank account and left for Africa, determined to find the first hellhole he could find and die. Fortunately for Pip and perhaps even for Nelson, he came across the Wild Geese who took him in as one of many. And while his heart was still cold and dead, he had found purpose in life again. Even if that purpose was to end the life of others.

"What's up Nelson?"

"Cap, the boat isn't coming."

"Why isn't it coming, mon ami?"

"The local police busted the skipper on gun running. Our guns to be exact."

"_Trou de cul!_ And of course, we can't expect him to keep his fuckin' mouth about us being here, can we?"

"Didn't think so either, Cap."

Pip rubbed his forehead, wiping off the sweat as a futile gesture, as it would return in a few moments. First Uganda, than the cost of lives making it to the border, and than now this. God must hate Frenchmen in general, it seemed. And not even the Wild Geese would survive his wrath now.

"Alright, let's head back to the hotel and tell the guys the deal."

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Pip and Nelson had their hands on their sidearms that were hidden away behind their belts. They nodded to each other in agreement, if the person behind them was a cop or a soldier, they would shoot him and than run as fast as any man not willing to go to prison would run. To their surprise and relief, it was not even a native, but a foreigner like them. In even more respects than just skin colour, as the man had a solid build and eyes that betrayed combat experience and training. He also had a distinctive scar, running across his face.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but I wondered if you wanted to hear proposition." The man's English was decent but flawed, with a strong accent. East-European or Russian.

"And who might you be?"

"Friend. A friend who knows someone with proposition. Now, do you want to follow me or have a talk with the police?"

Pip considered putting a gun against the man's face, but he didn't seem the type to be scared by death. Boredom was likely his fear. And being aware of the limited options and the fact he was as curious as a cat, Pip shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh well. Lead the way."

Following the man, Pip and Nelson eventually landed at the furthest point of the port, away and hidden from any unwanted eyes. The only buildings that were near had armed men hidden on the rooftops and behind the doors. A casual trespasser wouldn't have noticed them, not until they killed him. But Pip, who at his young age had obtained an incredible amount of combat experience, noticed it and recognized as something he and the Wild Geese would have done.

If they had a ship to guard. Like the gigantic cargo vessel to where the man was leading the two mercenaries. The nation flag at the end of the ship was Russian, but it could have been Dutch an hour ago. The man gestured Pip and Nelson to follow him onboard, and they did so. Even when they were being stared at serious-looking men in olive-green uniforms, carrying AK-74's slung around the shoulder.

"Cap'n, they're Russian. Not sure whether mercenary or Russian mob, but they look like professionals."

"Nothing to worry about, Nelson. We're professionals as well, and thus they will keep to the code."

"What code, Cap?"

"That they won't kill us after inviting us. At least, not until we heard the proposition."

Pip and Nelson were taken deep into the ship, which seemed to be pretty empty from the inside. Taken from the number he saw outside and on deck, there were likely no more than sixty, seventy Russians. Not a bad number against just his eighty men, whom were also unarmed thanks to the fuck-up by the skipper of their boat.

"In here." The man had arrived at a cabin, and knocked on the door.

"вступать" The voice was that of a woman, slightly surprising Pip as women were virtually non-existent in both the mercenary world and likely in that of the mafia, as far as Pip knew. Maybe this was a secret government operation led by the FSB, but unlikely as the Russians didn't have the money to send a ship and troops across the world to go to Africa in order meet up with a mercenary. They used the Internet for that nowadays.

Pip and Nelson followed the man inside, who suddenly jumped his feet together and saluted, to the blonde woman sitting behind a desk while holding a lit cigar. Though the lush blonde hair covered some of it, the woman had undeniably severe burn wounds across her face, and even below her neck.

"Ah, welcome gentlemen, to the _Maria Zeleska_. Boris, you can be dismissed for now." The woman spoke with more fluent English, though still accented. Boris nodded and left the cabin, leaving Pip and Nelson alone with the woman.

"My apologies if Boris seemed a bit direct, his English needs improving. But you have to give him credit, as he only learned it in the last two years. The disadvantage of being born low-class in the Soviet Union."

"No madame, his English was well enough. Enough to understand you had a proposition for us, and I'd like to hear it, s'il vous plaît."

"Ah, direct. I like that, so I'll be direct as well. I'm Balalaika, Kapitán of the men under my command and I like to request you and your Wild Geese taking this ship to England."

"England? Why would you assume we were going to England, Madame?"

"Because that is what the Mombassa police told me, when they questioned your skipper after they arrested him for gun-running."

Pip just stared at the Russian female, who just informed him that she was responsible for ruining any chance of escaping from this Godforsaken continent, not mentioning wasting the $10,000 he paid the skipper in advance. He chuckled, and wondered why never met interesting women like her in more social and comfortable conditions.

"Ah, you caught me there, Madame. But before we comply, may I ask why, you want a group of mercenaries to take your ship to England?"

"As I'm holding, as the Americans say, 'all the cards', I can refuse to answer that question. But let's just say that it's difficult for a group of our size, to enter the United Kingdom. Especially since we are transporting considerable amounts of firearms."

"I can understand that, but again, why us?"

"Because you were about to do the same, with a considerable amount of weaponry as well if the report of the police is correct, but you don't seem like fools. You wouldn't go to England, if somebody had not invited you to come. Someone, with the power to clearance your presence in the country, as well as bringing weapons."

"...I see. So we need to be your and your goons' ticket into the UK. I could ask why, but I already know the answer. Don't ask. But what if we refuse?"

"Than you can be escorted out of here by the Kenyan police, who will also be visiting Hotel Nwandago to pick up your men, and all sit on the charges of gun-running and planning a coupe to bring down the Kenyan government."

Pip whistled admiringly. Nelson just groaned, and wished they picked some other poor mercenary group to do their bidding. He also wished the Englishman, who sounded like a butler, never invited them to come to England to see that Hellsing Institute of theirs. Who needs mercenaries in the UK anyway, besides something rather stupid or plain boring?

"Well Madame, you win. But only on one condition."

"You seem to be in a bit of a bad place to ask for conditions, but please, go on."

"If you plan to start World War Three with the British, could you please tell beforehand? Cause than I'll know to use the first pay check to buy a ticket for the Eurostar and head back to the Province."

Balalaika smiled, and Pip smiled back, as the courtesy of one killer to another. Nelson just kept grumbling.

Within the hour, the Wild Geese left Hotel Nwandago and boarded the Marie Zeleska. The Mercenaries met the Russians, with accusing and suspicious eyes from both sides, confirming it would be a long journey before they got to England. And soon, the cargo ship left the Kenyan port city and began to head for the continent of Europe.


	7. Chapter 7: Valentine Gangsta Paradise

**30th Floor, Torchwood Tower**

"Find anything yet?"

"Nothing yet."

"Keep looking. I scored a lot of freaky alien tech for Torchwood, so they must have some ray gun in here. Or at least a portable one."

After nearly running the lungs out of their bodies, the three at arrived at the infamous storage facility of Torchwood, which did contain a lot of things. Like a very impressive but useless Jathar Sunglider as it's weapons had already been removed. Further, a set of gravity enhancers, nifty but as useless as a bikini on the Antarctic. Thus far, no weapons of use or carry. Tommy felt that it was poetic irony to find no alien weapons in a facility storing them. He never liked poetry, besides that of Shakespeare, who sounded like he'd been in the SAS.

Revy's lack of understanding for both the supernatural and alien, even technology, made her content with standing watch at the stair house. Every passing moment she felt more uncomfortable about the oncoming marching sounds of the ghouls several stories down.

"Hurry it up! It looks like those zombies ran out of people to eat. What the hell man, I thought more people worked at skyscrapers."

"Hartman had half the staff to take a day off, thought that so many people would make the old bastards uneasy. Ha! As if they aren't shitting their pants already."

"Jack, what's this?"

Tommy had wandered to the far end of the hall, and was now standing for a solid steel door, with no handle or exterior electronics to open it. Jack walked over and stood besides Tommy.

"Any idea?"

"I think it likely contains the weapons we're looking for."

"Wonderful. Any idea how to open it?"

"Nope."

Back at the stair house opening, Revy shot the first ghoul who came around the corner between the eyes, and fired several more bullets into that spot before it went down. It was difficult for her to maintain such accuracy, as she never needed it before. Her enemies usually didn't even wear body armour, or already dead for that matter.

Two more ghouls came up the stairs, stomping over the body of their comrade, and came towards Revy who was busy reloading her Berettas. They fired their weapons at her, but missed as the gunfighter rolled to the side and finally slapped the new magazines in. Another burst of rounds went again astray as Revy leapt up and in mid-air fired back, and emptied half a clip in both the ghoul's faces. But as she smiled with sadistic satisfaction, more ghouls began to ascend up the stairs.

"Hurry up, you fuckin' assholes!"

**29th Floor**

Jan Valentine had seen much in his life. He and his brother's childhood in the worst shithole of New York, the drugs and near-overdoses, his brother's short stay at that sick cult. Even the long journey to South-America which was filled with death and despair, would have killed most men.

But what lay before him, in the heart of the organisation that was to defend Great Britain from alien threat, disgusted him beyond reckoning. It was a full-stocked beauty parlour, meant for working staff if they run overtime and were still determined to look fashionable on the job. Seating himself in one of the chairs, he looked with anger at all the products of whom none were below the price of $500, or whatever its value was in British pounds.

"A country with this much inflation and what does little Miss Bitch spend it on? These fucking overpriced hairsprays! Don't you guy's think that's fucked up? Of course you think it's fucked up!"

The ghouls just stood by as their commander talked to them, as they had nothing to say. Nor any activity in the brains that would be enough to have an actual awareness, besides the instinct of hunger. Jan jumped up from the chair and walked out of the beauty parlour and towards the stairs to the next floor.

"Death is too good for her. I'm gonna rape that bitch, shoot her in the head and fuck her there!"

He aimed the P90 towards the ceiling and riddled it with bullets, to the awareness of the people the floor above. They were getting more desperate with the moment.

**30th Floor**

A ghoul was kicked in the face, and the momentum sent him railing backwards against his fellow ghouls, setting in motion a domino-effect that ended with a large batch of ghouls falling down the stairs and temporarily being thrown in chaos. But that wouldn't take long.

"Damnit!"

Shooting the last of the magazine into the pile of disoriented ghouls, Revy ran back into the storage room, closed the door and began shoving the large packing crates in front of it. Shoving one after another against the increasing barricade, she went over to some smaller crates to toss them on top. But as she grabbed the first crate, a figure appeared from the cover behind the crates and jumped on her, screaming.

"Noooo-!" Before he had reached her, the figure was punched in the throat by an angry Revy and immediately received her knee in the stomach, dropping face down onto the floor.

"Wanna eat my flesh, fucker? Choke on this!"

Revy pushed back the slide of her 'Cutlass' and pressed against her attacker's head, when Jack suddenly called out.

"Rebecca, stop! It's one of ours...unfortunately."

As the red mist before her eyes dropped, she could now see that the person lying on the floor was not a ghoul or even that maniac. It was just a man, in a business suit who assumed a fetal position because of the severe pain. He was likely a Torchwood employee, as he wasn't a ghoul and Jack seemed to know him.

"Ianto, what the hell are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be sl-…I mean trying to get out? And where's that Lisa you always bother me about?"

Ianto had managed to work himself up from the ground, coughing and shaking, before he responded.

"I-I managed to get away with Lisa, but we've got separated several floors down. It was horrible...I could manage to get up here and hide, and wait for Lisa when she goes out of hiding too."

"Why are you sure that Lisa is hiding?

"Because she has to be, she can't be dead."

"...Right. Ianto, we need your help with opening a vault, as you worked here for a long time and might know how to open it."

"What vault?"

"That one." Jack pointed towards the other end of the storage room, where the distinguished Captain Lethbridge-Stewart was trying to kick down a thick steel door. It was a lack of options combined with stubbornness, rather than a case of madness.

"B-But that's the Special Weapons storage!"

"Yes!" Revy exclaimed and ran over to Tommy to help him open it, or damage it.

"Alright, that's good news. How do we open it, Ianto?"

"You can't Jack! That vault is restricted and off-limits to anyone without clearance from the Director or Dr. Singh."

"But…you can open it, can you?"

"Yes...but I won't, not without cl-" Ianto was again interrupted by a punch against the throat, nearly coming to crushing his trachea. Than Jack grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him over to the vault door.

At the stair house doors, something heavy was pushing it, moving the crates piled against it with an inch every second. Time was running out, and Ianto was going to cooperate, whether he liked it or not.

"How do you open it Ianto?"

"I already said it, I can't open it wi-" Revy took out her Cutlass, and pistolwhipped Ianto once, splitting his lip. She than whirled the gun around back into position and aimed it at his left kneecap while cocking the hammer. Tommy aimed his G36 at Ianto's right.

"Start talking."

"ALRIGHT! Alright...it's activated by DNA-scans, just press a hand against it...and I'm qualified to do so..."

"Alright, than do so. And if you protest one more time, I will cut off your hand and keep in it a jar along with that of a doctor!"

**13th Floor**

Corridors. Just endless corridors with rooms filled with equipment, their use unknown. But the lone vampire wondering through them had no interest in knowing what they could do, as the force that pulled him to a direction. By now, he was getting a bit nervous and unsure if he should follow it further or do the smart thing and stop, and leave the Torchwood Tower.

But he couldn't. Not when the whole world and humanity were like ants beneath his feet, begging to be crushed by an superior being. And if what at the end was, what he believed it to be, it was his destiny to continue and face it.

And now that seemed near, as he reached the end of the last corridor and stood before a locked vault door with a ID-card reader. He smashed it to tiny bits of useless electronics, and was willing to do the same to the door. But to his annoyance, it was still too solid to break it open, and it appeared to be a slide-mechanism, without any hinges to break off. Getting in would be a difficult task, even for his skills.

Until the door suddenly opened itself, and slid open. Revealing behind it a massive hall whose ceiling extended through the next floor. Weird and non-existent machinery and equipment were aligned along the walls.

And in the middle of the room, totally out of context with it's surroundings, stood a high chair. And sitting in it, a man in red, who's clothes have gone out of fashion a century ago if they had taste back than. He seemed rather bored, even with a small table besides him with a glass and a bottle of wine, which likely wasn't wine.

"You are late."

Questions, about who, why and how he was inside the building and in this very room that was locked off, rose up. But Luke knew it before even doing something as foolish as asking his name.

"The Great Alucard...I might have known you would show up."

"Show up? I have waited for you at my home. And you didn't show up. I didn't like to come to this place, this dark tower of glass and steel, this monument to the arrogance of Torchwood."

"My apologies...and my gratitude for you coming to such a place. I always wanted to meet the great Alucard, the legend. Hunter and destroyer of his own ilk."

"They were not my ilk. They were not even worth to be called trash, not even capable of understanding why they kill, and only just do it to satisfy their own meaningless existence. Humans are more worthy than them. Some of them, at least."

"Than you will be pleased to know that I am not one of them. I have all the powers you have, in fact I have even more power than you ever did."

Alucard whistled admiringly.

"And I will end you, taking your place as the world's most powerful vampire!"

And as if they had not been standing away from each other at a distance of at least 30 metres, Luke had crossed it in less than a eye blink and pressed a weapon against Alucard's head, while Alucard did the same favour by pressing a weapon against Luke abdomen, resulting in a standoff.

Maybe it was for dramatic style, maybe there were moral issues, but it took a second before both vampires pulled their triggers. Alucard was hit between the eyes and his head snapped backwards as his brains departed his skull. Luke was shot through the stomach and flung backwards onto the floor.

Both vampires were again motionless, as one lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and the other near-falling from his chair as grey matter dripped down. Any doctor would have them declared them both to be dead. But that was a problem, as they were both already dead.

And than they began to laugh.


	8. Chapter 8: The Dark Tower

**30th Floor, Torchwood**

At the stairhouse, the crates had been pushed back enough to allow the ghouls to stretch their arms through the narrow opening, growling at whatever person was having the nerve of keeping them from their food. But nobody was cowering in fear or shooting back.

When the ghouls finally pushed the crates enough to allow entry, they swarmed the storage facility, and shooting innocent packing crates who had been neutral in the ongoing conflict. During their scourging, they came across a opened vault, that was had racks and standards standing inside, but no weapons stored anywhere. Even the anti-gravitation display, on wich the words 'Bio Force Gun' were written, had nothing to show.

Than they continued their march upwards onto the staircase, onto the meeting on the 48th floor.

**Round Table Conference, 48th Floor**

The Round Table had gone silent for a while, most of them remaining silent and nervously listening to the noises below, that were getting closer and closer by the minute. Only three did not act as the most of the Royal Knights.

First was Yvonne Hartman, who was cradling her head and think of a way to solve this impossible situation and come out the better of it, and at the same time on the brink of crying of this happening to her and not that little Hellsing cunt.

Second was that little cunt herself, Integra Hellsing who kept switching between devising plans for actual survival, and looking towards Yvonne with both anger and sympathy. She wouldn't imagine how it would feel to lose her people, on such grand scale. However, she would not be sitting here at the top of her palace, doing nothing. Not if she would have still a card to play.

The third was Sir Islands, who was unshakeable by nature and watched both Integra and Yvonne, waiting to see what either of them would do. It would disappoint him if she would just crack, but Integra seemed to be more capable of keeping her calm in this situation. It would likely destroy the last bits of respect the Round Table had for Vyonne, but Sir Islands was about to adress Integra and ask her to solve the situation.

"This ends now."

Sir Islands, and most of the table, turned to Vyonne Hartman who had stood up from her chair and replaced the expression of shock with one of anger. Integra was bland, awaiting if Hartman had finally gathered her strength and was devoted to crushing her enemies.

"Those monsters shall be stopped this instant. They dare to enter this tower built on the dedication and honour of the Torchwood Institute. None of them shall leave it, as only way out will be the deepest pits of Hell!"

Vyonne slammed her fists down onto the table, loud as her tender and fragile appearance deceived her inner strength.

"Integra!"

_About bloody time_, the Hellsing member thought. A few more seconds, and she would have said something.

"Yes, Yvonne?"

"You have had expierence with these creatures, have you not?'

"Yes, that is true. The Hellsing Organisation has been founded to deal with threats like these."

"Than deal with it. Show them what they reaped when they attacked Torchwood."

"As you request...Sir Yvonne."

Integra grabbed her cellular phone, both a cursing and a bliss of the modern times. She than dialed the one of only two numbers in the entire memory card. One of them was to the Queen's aide, as the Majesty could not possibly be forced to have such a abomination in her presence. The other..

"_Yes, Sir Integra?_"

"Walter. Sir Yvonne has just decided that the intruders below are not to be made welcome. I order you to make that clear to them, and that they will be removed from the building at once."

"_As you wish, Sir Integra. And I should mention that by chance, both our present employees have made it up here, along with a Captain Jack Harkness from Torchwood. And they brought along some materials that will aid in executing your request._"

"That is satisfactory to hear. Begin at once. Oh, and Walter."

"_Yes, Sir Integra?_"

"Make them hurt."

"_As you demand_."

**48th Floor, Several Minutes Later**

Though the non-smoking laws were today almost Draconian, one Torchwood soldier had a pack of smokes hidden in a magazine pocket. Jan thanked him for the pack, before putting a bullet between his eyes. Now, leading his troops towards the Round Table, Jan felt glad that the long boring slaughter was nearing a end. According to the schematics he barely took the effort to remember, the conference was at the end of the corridor.

"Little Torchwood...I'm coming for you. I'll rape you, then kill you and than I'll fuck your corpse one more time. I'll kill all of you fucks, and piss on your remains. We're coming and we're not leaving 'till we're done, okay?"

But than the march of the damned halted, as ahead a door opened and a person stepped into the corridor, almost scary calm.

"What the hell? I can't believe there's still someone breathin' on this floor."

The hand of the stranger moved for a bit, and than nothing. It was not until three seconds later, Jan's cigaret fell apart. Two seconds later, a pair of ghouls behind him, were instantly rendered into a temporairy cloud of blood and limbs who fell down to Earth as wet chunky bits. The stranger turned to Jan and began walking towards him.

"Oh dear, I missed. I guess I'm not as spry as I used to be."

"**Who the fuck are you**, old man?!" Jan stared in confusion to the man who was known as the Angel of Death in a previous life.

"Walter C. Dornez, Retainer of the Hellsing Family and Hellsing Organization member, retired. Shall we?"

"Blow him away boys!"

Jan snapped his finger, and the ghouls around began to fire towards the elderly butler, who yet with inhuman ease dodged their aim. Than Walter proceeded by flaying his arms forward, and a keen observer would have noticed the shining on the metal wires, that moved towards the ghouls and coiled around them, tieying around the waists and necks of the unholy monsters. Walter finally stood still, holding the ends of the wires in his hands.

"Too slow, you're far too slow! Ghouls are fine, but I have fought against the true armies of the undead!"

Than Walter tugged the wires, creating a crimson flood of blood as the ghouls were cut to pieces by the wires, leaving a shocked and scared Jan alone.

"I most highly recommend pissing yourself right now, followed by a course of praying to your impotent god."

Jan looked in fear at the approaching Angel of Death, and his eyes seemed as if they were about to pop. But than, a radical change of mood and expression happend as Jan began to laugh. Loud and genuine, as if the whole action by the butler was a great joke.

"Ah yeah, fuck **yes**! That's just what I want to hear, I was getting so bored with these easy kills, pops!"

A new snap of his finger, and twice the number of ghouls than before replaced the fallen ones, this time with their shields raised to add more difficulty for the monowires to cut through.

"March!"

While Jan's confidence grew as his ghouls marched onto their enemy, Walter felt a little demoralized. But not so much that he lost his own confidence. Not when he had back-up.

"Gentlemen and Lady...commence direct fire support."

Far behind Walter, at the end of the hall in a door opening, stood the three remaining soldiers of the Torchwood Tower among a collection of alien weaponry. Ianto had run into hiding again. Revy was working on a long barreled alien-looking device, with no proper trigger or handle.

"Okay..just a moment...Ah! Here we go!"

Revy found something that resembled a button and pressed it. It did nothing. So she pressed another, and it finally worked. Torchwood experts, if they had still been alive, would have described it as a particle beam weapon. In other words, a ray gun.

The weapon emitted a pulsed particle beam, that crossed the distance between Revy and the ghouls at the speed of light. It went through a entire row of ghouls as a gunshot through butter, complety blowing away torsos, removing mid-sections and even some decapitations.

Jan turned around, bewildered at the sheer devasation done by a single human with a alien blaster. Revy,Tommy and Jack gasped at the destruction that just one of Torchwood's 'obtained' weapons had done. Walter was too old and expierenced to be shaken by such things.

"For your next shot, I suggest to use a weapon with area-effect damage. Aim for the center of the enemy formation."

The three inmediatly rummaged through their gathered collection, but Torchwood had failed to put tags on the weapons, describing what they could do. Lacking in time, Jacked just grabbed the biggest there was and aimed the Bio Force Gun at the ghouls.

"Big...fuckin...gun." Jan stated it as he stared at the barrel with morbid curiosity.

Luckily for Jack, the weapon was made and used by humanoids, making the pulling trigger part easy. It released a small green-radiating orb, that flew into the midst of the ghoul forces, before exploding with a massive force. The humans averted their eyes from the flash side-effect, as the energy vaporized most of the ghouls, and tore the rest to asunder, ripping apart most of the corridor aswell.

But Jan wasn't the slowest of the class, and had jumped to safety, towards Walter. And before the retired Hellsing member could spin his wires to defend himself, the vampire had already placed his P90 against the back of Walter's skull.

"End of the line, Alfred."

Out of a sudden, the P90 aimed at Walter was blown apart by two insanely-aimed gunshots. Jan looked at the wrecked remains of his weapon with extreme puzzlement.

"What the fuck!"

He turned to where he believed the shots had come from, and saw Revy standing close by with her own guns. She stared at him with a cold stare, and eyes spoke of upcoming pain.

"Fuckin pig."

Revy shot Jan a total of sixteen times in the chest, emptying her Berettas whilst knocking him backwards onto the ground. But even , the vampire began to try and stand up, but Tommy and Jack intervened by running up to him and both put a alien weapon against his head.

"Don't even think about it, creep."

Walter regained his composure and walked over to Jan as he being held under gunpoint. From one of the doors in the ravaged corridor, a frightened Ianto Jones looked if everything had gone well, or if he should remain in cover. Walter looked down to the pissed and perforated Jan.

"Now, I want to hear some answers as to why you attacked this facility."

"You won't get shit from me, old man!"

Walter sighed, and dropped his heel with force upon Jan's left hand and partially crushing, to which Jan responded with a loud scream. "EOWWWW!"

"Now, do I need to disable your other hand?"

"Ngnnhh...you can do whatever you want, but I'm still not talkin. And when my brother is done doing whatever, he's gonna kill all of you fucks!"

**13th Floor, Several Minutes Earlier**

Both combattants sprung up after their faked deaths, but Luke was quicker, and had a second weapon at hand that put several more bullets through Alucard's head. The vampire of Hellsing was flunged back into his chair, but still raised the 13mm Jackal and returned fire.

Luke smirked, before he casually evaded all of Alucard's shots with a speed that almost resembled instant teleporation. Every inch of the room was shot, equipment to blown to tiny bits, and still Luke dodged every bullet with uncanny ease. After dodging a particular close one, Luke wanted to retort with a remark about his opponent's inability to hit him, when the bullet that went past destroyed the vault door upon impact, to the suprise of Luke.

"What the...what kind of gun is that."

"What wonderful reflexes."

"Mmph, I thought I told you not to place me among those you have fought before!"

And than they started their fighting anew, which mostly involved Luke dodging fire and returning it to Alucard, who took it all. After a minute or so, they finally stopped as their weapons finally had run out of bullets to fire. Luke was as fresh as before the fight even started, without a single drop of blood or smudge on his clothes. In opposite of Alucard, who's clothes were ripped and drenched in blood, and the vampire nearly bending over while holding onto the Jackal.

"This is glorious, I haven't this much fun in ages. What is your name again?" The blood and the wounds vanished, and even the torn clothes were renewed as if nothing had happend.

Luke hardly knew what to say, to a person who was supposed to be dead. Truelly dead.

"Luke Valentine.."

"Luke Valentine, I class you as a Midian-class Vampire." And all of the sudden, the room began to grow darker and colder. Shadows began to cover every source of light.

"Releasing Control Art Restriction to Level 3, Situation A. Cromwell approval is now in effect. Hold release until target is silenced."

In the darkness, eyes began to open. Hundreds of eyes, with red pupils, and totally nothing human about them. Surrounded by them from all sides, Luke Valentine thought that he truelly began to understand what fear was. Until he looked again at Alucard, who had the eyes spawned on every part of his body, which had been altered into a humanoid shape of a liquid darkness.

"Now, I will show you how true vampires do battle!"

And than the screaming started.

**48th Floor**

"Now, lets try again, shall we? Who sent you and what were your orders?"

"Uh, I just happend to be passing by, I don't know anything. Forgive me? No?"

Jan suddenly lost the ability to play the piano with his right hand, which happend to his left only a few moments earlier.

"I suggest you begin to speak, before you lose that ability aswell."

"OKAY! Jesus Christ...We were told to utterly destroy Torchwood, and kill off the Round Table. And if some deadsucker in red happend to show up, murder his dead ass."

Walter and the two members of Hellsing were suprised by Jan's knowledge of Alucard, as that meant somebody knew of him, someone still alive. Or still dead, depending on what species.

"Me and my bro were made to kick the shit out of you all. So just curl up and die."

"What could you possibly do from down there with your army destroyed?"

Jan looked at him, and blinked with a puzzled expression. Than he began to laugh, hard and loud as if Walter just told him the best joke in the world, or Jan's sense of humour was more twisted than inhumanely possible.

"You really are a senile old fuck, dude!"

Walter had enough with the vampire's attitude and was about to make some surgical alterations with his wires, when he suddenly noticed something in his upper eye corner. Looking beyond his companions and Jan to the other end of the corridor, his eyes suddenly widend.

Jack and Tommy, looked over to Walter in confusion about his sudden silence, to which Jan made thankful use of by jumping up onto his feet and throw the two men against the wall. And before someone could stop him, the Valentine vampire made a long sommersault backwards and landed at the end of the corridor, where the event that shocked Walter was taking place.

It was the dead of Torchwood, reborn as unholy abominations of themselves, becoming the thing that killed them. Ghouls. In their bloodied and ravaged uniforms, labcoats and business suits, the former staff of Torchwood shuffled with empty eyes and open jaws towards Walter and the rest.

"What the hell..."

"The party is just gettin' started."

Jan lunged forward, again making a huge sommersault that made him go over Walter's head and after landing began running towards the conference room.

"No you don't!"

Walter released his wires and caught Jan's right arm. But the vampire just kept running, and ignored the fact that his arm was sliced apart by the wires until it came off completly. Jan laughed a maniac crackle, and kept heading straight for the conference room to where the Round Table was residing. With his remaining hand he pushed the doors open, and stopped.

The entire Round Table had turned to face him, and every single member had a firearm raised, all aimed at him. The only one not doing that, was Yvonne Hartman who had left her seat and stood before Jan with one hand behind her back. And the same generous smile she would have given a new employee.

"Welcome to Torchwood."

And proceded to reveal a G36 assault rifle from behind her back which she now aimed at Jan. His only response was a small smirk.

Yvonne opened fire, along with the entire Round Table who emptied their weapons at the vampire. Jan was violently perforated by the bullets in every part of his body, as the missing bullets destroyed the doors. And it was not until the last bullet had been fired, the vampire dropped on his knees and fell face down in the pool of his own blood.

And revealed the horror in the corridor, to the shock of Yvonne and Integra.

"Oh my God.."


	9. Chapter 9: Dead Zone

**48th Floor, Torchwood Tower**

In her messed up childhood that consisted out of beatings and killings, on a good day she was lucky to have seen a movie on a cheap and yet still stolen television set. The movies she watched were mostly exploitation flicks from the 70's, with overdone kung-fu action, overdone prisoners, female nudity and overly gross zombie horrors. She claimed not to watch romantics as the sweet fantasy of people falling in love made her sick, but in truth she envied the girls who were given a knight on a white steed.

What was coming towards her was more terrifying than all the Corman and Romero horrors Revy ever saw. Mostly because they were in fact real, and coming towards her.

"My people...all my people are those...things..." Yvonne's reconstructed composure, nearly fractured again at the sight of the Torchwood ghouls. Especially since she knew every ghoul by name, as she was a 'people's person'.

Tommy and Jack had just recovered from the smack that Jan had given them, and aimed their weapons at the crowd. Revy replaced her empty magazines with new ones, as she was not in an infinite supply of ammunition, unlike some people. She stood close to the two men, but her legs felt like running. They didn't, though, as they very well knew she would personally shoot the both of them, for the cowardly appendages they were.

"Alright people, on my mark..." Tommy took command, though he barely had a clue of what to do. Usually, he and his soldiers outnumbered the ghouls, not the other way around.

"One, two, thre-" A gunshot went off, and Tommy could feel the bullet flying past his head.

Behind them stood Ianto Jones, with a gun he must have hidden under his clothes the entire time.

"Don't! You'll kill Lisa!" Ianto pointed towards the undead crowd. And with some difficulty, Jack Harkness could detect the black female which Ianto always whined about. She might have been attractive, but not now, not when half her face had been chewed off.

"Ianto, she's dead. She wants to eat your fucking brain!"

"NO! SHE IS STILL ALIVE! She's alive, and we can help her!"

"She's dead Ianto, she is a ghoul. No alien tech we got can change that."

Ianto turned his gun to Tommy. "You Hellsing bastards know how to cure her, TELL ME!"

Ianto never learnt that it was a bad thing to aim a gun at a former SAS Captain, especially if the Captain had a partner with a deadshot accuracy and low tolerance for insanity. A bullet went through the gun-holding hand, and Ianto dropped the piece while clutching his bleeding hands.

"Very appreciated Rev, now...on my mark, one, two, thre-" Ianto was a hard learner as he charged towards Tommy who had his back turned.

But yet again, Ianto made the mistake of attacking a SAS Captain. This time because SAS have more hours in hand-to-hand combat training and experience, than Ianto did in pencil-lifting. Thus, without even looking backwards, Tommy was able to grab Ianto's arm with just one hand and performed a by the book shoulder throw that lifted Ianto of his feet. Than the Torchwood accountant went flying over Tommy's head and due to the speed Ianto was making and the force Tommy was using, upon landing he slid several feet forward. Several feet too much.

"Oh shit Ianto! Get back here!"

During their disagreements, the ghouls had not been kind to stop advancing, and were now nearly on top of Ianto who was shaking off his dizziness inflicted by the landing. When he finally turned to see what was coming towards him, his eyes widened. But than he saw Lisa again and ignoring all reason and own safety, he stepped into the mass of ghouls and grabbed her by the shoulder.

"LISA! WAKE UP! This is not you, snap out of it!"

Yvonne, Integra and the rest watched in horror how Ianto was disregarding his own life, amidst a horde of flesh-eating ghouls, in the belief he could save his now-ghoulified girlfriend. That he was insane, became now clear even to him.

"..Please...come back...for me, for us...please?"

The creature who used to human and had a name, stared at Ianto. For one second, 'Lisa' seemed to understand what he was asking, and even considering it. Than, she moved her ravaged face closer to Ianto's, and proceeded to kill his insanity-derived hope by plunging her teeth into his neck.

Ianto screamed, not out of pain, but out of the dying of his soul. Than he stopped screaming, because another ghoul besides him went for his throat and tore it out in full in a single pull. The others descended upon Ianto, and than he was gone, covered by a mass of hungry bodies.

"That was..." Revy dropped to her knees and puked her stomach contents out, cursing the British and their crazy breakfasts.

Jack didn't know what to say or even how to respond. Death was typically clean and quick wherever he went, not slow and disgusting. Yvonne and Integra were speechless as well, though they both seen worse things. Walter was a butler, a British butler, so he wasn't allowed to express emotion.

"In the name of God..." Everyone turned to Tommy, who had again picked up his weapon and walked towards the ghouls who were nearly done feasting on Ianto.

"..In the name God, impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation..."

Tommy placed the weapon stock against his shoulder, and Jack followed his example. Revy wiped away the vomit from her lips, and took aim with her Cutlasses.

"Amen." The three said in unison.

**13th Floor, Elevator Hall**

_Almost there, almost there, almost there. Almost..._

A gunshot echoed in the nearly-empty corridors, and Luke Valentine now lost the use of his other leg, as the first had been also blown away by a 13mm round. The momentum of his one-legged sprint along with the kinetic impact of the Jackal, threw Luke into the already open doors of the one elevator of the 13th floor.

There was much excruciating pain, but Luke had enough sense that if he did not hurry, pain wouldn't be a problem. But as he reached for the elevator panel, it became clear that due to the loss of both his legs, he was too short to reach the controls.

Luke found it to be hilarious in a dark twisted way, and chuckled. Then he turned to see what had arrived in the hallway.

It was something even Lovecraft or Poe wouldn't have been able to describe it, and words like 'horror' and 'monstrosity' were too small to define it. It was all the nightmares of the world compiled into a single mass of Darkness. And there were still the eyes, always-watching eyes that were so inhuman that it seemed they came from another planet.

"Wha-...what the hell are you!"

The darkness took a slight humanoid shape, and Alucard's head spawned on top of it.

"Stop whining. All I did was shoot off your stupid legs. Now, summon forth your Familiars! Transform yourself! Regenerate your legs! Stand up! Pick up your gun and attack me! Do something!"

Alucard had taken one of Luke's severed legs, and with sadistic pleasure he crushed it with his hand, terrorizing Luke even more.

"The night is still so young, and the real fun is yet to start! Come on, come on, come on, **Come on!**"

Luke was unable to take anymore as he breached his own self-dignity,.

"Get the fuck away from me, y-you goddamned monster!"

Luke's reaction overwhelmed Alucard, and spawned a expression of true shock and surprise. Than, he grew silent and his face turned grim. The covering darkness and the walls of eyes vanished for the most, and now only Alucard remained. He looked down and regarded him with disappointment.

"I see...you're just like the rest...a disappointment." Alucard spat out the words, with a disgusted look.

"Fuck off, Hellsing's little bitch!" Even when both his legs were missing and his enemy was far more powerful and evil than he ever hoped to be, Luke had still his pride. "You're just a vampire who's the Angelican church's lapdog-"

"**Silence!**"

The darkness grew back, but now it was massed in Alucard's right arm. And as hundreds of eyes opened again, the massive blob of shadow gained two red flaming eyes of his own, a nose of a animal and jaws that would frighten a big white shark. It growled and streams of saliva.

"You're nothing more but dog food."

Alucard's 'pet' opened his massive jaws that with filled with rows of ridged sharp teeth, and a obscenely huge tongue. It roared, and than moved at the speed of sound towards Luke. The vampire produced a small handgun, that was hidden in his sleeve and revealed with a slide-mechanism, and fired it's contents onto the oncoming monster.

But it was as futile as Luke's scream, when the Hellhound descended downwards and ate him. The entire body of Luke Valentine was consumed within a few bites, splattering blood all over the elevator. A hand that had come lose with the first attack, was snatched out of the air by the Hellhound, and finally finishing in eating all what remained of Luke Valentine.

"So...that's all he was after all. Damn punk."

Though it had been one of the biggest disappointments in his life, Alucard could still bring up a smile.

"You were more a piece of shit than a man. Now you can be a piece of dog shit."

Alucard reverted to his old solid form, and his body began to syphon the blood that had covered the entire elevator. Now, there was not even a single trace that the elder Valentine brother even existed, besides the deaths he caused.

"After this, I can tell how weak the one upstairs is...yet it seems he is giving them quite a tough time. Humans do not know how lucky they are..."

Alucard turned and walked back into the corridors of the 13th floor of Torchwood Tower, and than vanished as if he had never been there in the first place.

Unknown to him, and all others besides a few who had now awakened, his presence alone had been affecting the spatial rift that was the primary reason for the Torchwood Tower's construction. And when he released some of his power, it cracked open the rift. Opening this world to another, for a short time span, a hole in time and space.

And something came through.

**48th Floor**

Of the once might army of Ghouls that assaulted Torchwood Tower, remained little. It was reduced to a field of dead bodies, of which some were still moving and crawling across the floor as they did not receive the grace of a bullet into the brains. And as for its leader...

Jan was thrown against the wall, and slid down to a sitting position, leaving a large blood trail. He was clearly heavily wounded, even for a vampire, and was unlikely to survive the next hours. But the vampire still kept smirking, as if this was all very amusing.

"If you are seated, than we can start with the questions. But be assured, we will kill you eventually. But only after answering the questions." Walter displayed his wires in a brief pre-warning of what was going to happen.

"Gnhihihihihi-Ackgh-ehahaha...you people are real dumbasses. It's hilarious you don't see that yourselves."

Yvonne stepped towards Jan, and it was only now visible that she had been crying, as her mascara around the eyes began to fade. In her hands, the same G36 rifle, but with a new magazine inserted.

"YO! Bitch!"

The G36 fired half a magazine.

"Enough of your prattle. I am not amused at the moment."

Smoke came out of the new holes that Yvonne had put into Jan, and blood was gushing like a waterfall. Still, the vampire had both the constitution to start laugh, and the understanding to see the humour in this. Integra stepped forward with her own weapon, and fired a single round in Jan's face. That still didn't stop him laughing, in fact it only increased the hilarity of the situation for him.

"Who are you people? How did you manage this? Who is responsible for all this? Answer me!"

Jan began to laugh even louder, a near impossible feat because of the bullets in his throat.

"Answer me!"

"Gack-hahahahaha...you probably know all about the chip-thing buried inside of me. It's still sending them info as we speak."

Jan began to stand up, yet another feat which was impossible as his knees were shot to hell. Though it was unlikely he was going anywhere, the humans still drew closer with their weapons at hand.

"Nghh...They know the attack went to shit...and they can hear this conversation too." Jan smirked. "After I fucked everything up and told you gits the whole plan, you seriously fuckin think they'd let me live?"

Jan was suddenly engulfed by blue flames that had come out of nowhere, and surprised everyone in the room. Tommy quickly stood before Integra along with Walter, to give her some protection if Jan was going to try and set her on fire too. Jack did the same for Yvonne, whose eyes widened at this display of magic.

"What'd did I say? HAHAHAHA!" Even when his body was being consumed by fire, Jan still saw the joke in it all.

"I'll tell you dumb-fucks one last thing! Happy Millen...nium...bitches..."

The fire reached its highest intensity and Jan's body reached its tolerance, as it fell apart in pieces of smouldering ashes and vapour. His hand, with the middle-finger extended in one final obscene gesture, fell apart as the last piece.

"Millen...nium...?" Integra felt the word pierce her mind like a flaming arrow, and felt it would be of great importance.

"Are you alright, my ladies?"

"Yes, I'm fine Walter."

"Me as well. But forget that. We need to put them out of their misery."

Yvonne pointed to the ghouls who were still twitching and moving, their suffering still extended. Walter and Tommy nodded, as it would be a mercy killing. But than Sir Islands, having left the conference room, stepped amidst the bodies.

"No. That won't do, Walter. That is a commander's task."

Sir Islands stepped towards Yvonne, and presented her his old service sidearm, a Webley Mk IV. He extended the pistol grip to her, as an invitation for her to seize it.

"You must act in accordance with your duty, Sir Hartman."

"Sir Islands! I plead you not to..." Though Yvonne was not his master, Walter felt compelled to defend her.

"No. I won't accept that this was unavoidable. There should have been provisions or a contingency plan in place. All responsibility lies with you. You are the commander of this facility, after all. The fact that these people are dead or undead is entirely your fault."

"Sir Islands!" Jack wanted to tell that British stiff-upper lip brat that without foresight it would have been impossibly to predict this, but Yvonne herself stopped him.

She took the revolver from Sir Islands's hand, and walked over to the nearest ghoul who was still active, and went down on her knees. She placed the weapon against the ghoul's head, and vaguely remembered that this abomination was once a young soldier named Sebastian.

"You won't ask you to forgive me. But I am sorry. I am so sorry." Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.

"Integra. Look into this 'Millennium' thing, with all speed and thoroughness."

"Yes sir. It will be done." Integra had her own sympathies for Yvonne, but felt it necessary that the task would be let to Hellsing, as Torchwood had proven to be incapable against threats like these.

"We shall repay them a billion times for this injustice."

And than the gun went off.

**Hellsing Manor, The Following Day**

Standing in Integra's office, Walter gave a report of Torchwood and the Round Table's actions after the massacre committed by the Valentine brothers. Integra listened, while smoking one of her expensive Dutch cigars.

"The official statement given to the press that it was a terrorist attack, in a attempt to blow up the main Canary Wharf building. Which was the explanation for the massive amounts of gunfire and explosions heard by bystanders outside, and the dead police constable outside was reported to be hit by the terrorist transportation."

"Fortunately, one of Torchwood's selection requirements include a limited social life and as few relatives as possible. That eased the part of covering up the deaths of more than 400 workers, of whom half were armed. Of the total staff of 800, only 402 survived. Of those who survived, 400 were off-duty that day due to the Round Table Conference, and the remaining two are Sir Yvonne Hartman and Dr Rajeh Singh."

They found Singh on the above floor, and though half of his co-workers were killed, he seemed incredibly excited about something. But wasn't allowed to talk by order from Yvonne.

"The dead will buried at the William Hartnell Cemetery, which we along with several officers will attend to show our respect."

The William Hartnell Cemetery was located just outside of London and restricted to all individuals without clearance. It was the resting place of all who died in the service of her Majesty, but under strange conditions that would make a civilian or even military burial difficult to explain. People asked questions if they were not allowed to see the dead, or demanded explanations as to why they had been killed in a unearthly way. Among those buried, were those of Torchwood, but also of UNIT, Hellsing and other covert organisations.

"Very well. How goes the Millennium investigation?"

"We've requested assistance from MI5 and the Ministry of Defence. Even the British Museum is currently searching its full archives, but nothing of particularly noteworthy has been found."

"There were seven groups devoted to such things as the occult and military studies in America, Japan, the Netherlands and France. And one Star Wars fan club based in Los Angeles."

"Star Wars?"

"The '_Millennium Falcon'_, Sir Integra. The name of Han Solo's ship."

"So...we might as well have no information at all."

"My sincerest apologies. At this point, we know nothing more than the word's fundamental meaning...one thousand years."

Integra looked up, as if a switch was turned in her head. And it wasn't that far from the truth.

"No, there is one more lead. Don't you remember, Walter?" Integra left her seat and walked away from her desk, towards the window.

"The Millennium Empire. The group that took on the entire world to achieve a thousand years of glory and power. Half a century ago."

Walter's eyes widened, as he came to realize what Integra was referring to.

"Germany. The Nazis. Adolf Hitler. The Third Reich."

**South America, Unknown Location**

In a room hidden away from daylight, a large group of people were talking amongst themselves. The results of the chips implanted into Luke and Jan Valentine, were so promising that they could continue their projects for decades. But at the sight of those who entered the room. They stopped talking, stepped into military formation and clicked their heels together.

"Enough gentlemen. Let us resume the research."

"In the direction I demanded from the beginning!"

"Of course, Doctor. Your...fascinating ideas and knowledge was our intention to follow from the start, but you would understand we needed to analyze other options.."

"There was never need for those tests! My expertise and creations were undeniable superior, and you are a fool to only realize that now!"

In the shadows, one person wanted to step forward and teach that doctor in what sort of place he was. His superior, raised a hand and the person stopped immediately, and vanished back into the shadows.

"My sincere apologies. But, as much trust I have in your intelligence, I would like to see some results from the considerable resources we granted you. And of course, our hospitality."

"The first series of prototypes are nearly finished. In fact, the first one is ready to tests. Let me show you, how foolish you are by assuming that I have failed to produce results!"

A button was pressed, and a door was opened. What came through it was met with all the eyes in the room. Most of them, met it with disbelief. As to how could this be the future, as the Doctor promised? Only three pairs of eyes had a different reaction towards it. One of was utmost interest, and the other of utmost pride at his restored creation. The third was of no interest, no pride or disbelief, or any emotion at all.

"As you see, Major, it is quite finished."

"It is interesting to see it move...but can it do what it was meant to do, Davros?"

"Of course it can! I'll show you now!" Davros pressed another button on the chair that served as a mobile life support, as he would not be able to live a minute without it.

"Prototype One! Speak! What is your objective?!"

The thing in the middle, suddenly came alive with lights being turned on and off, and began moving on his own.

"TO RECIEVE OR-DERS."

"And what are you orders! Tell me!"

"LOCATE E-NE-MIES!"

"And what more, what will you do with your enemies?!"

"EXTERMINATE THEM! EX-TER-MINATE! **EX-TER-MINAAAATE!**"


	10. Chapter 10: A Police Box In Rome

**William Hartnell Cemetery**

It was raining. And the only time it seemed appropriate. Hundreds of coffins were being carried, by members of Torchwood but also those of the Royal Navy, Army, Airforce, UNIT and even some of Hellsing. With so much death, petty rivalry between departments seemed foolish. As well as considering giving every person buried today, separate last rites. They were all done in a single preach, but that didn't diminish the effect.

400 dead, in a single day. Not even the alien menaces of old had done such damage. The Round Table had been required to buy more land to obtain enough room. And bought more, though they could ill-afford another Valentine Massacre.

After the priest was done, Yvonne Hartman came up to speak. Among those listening to her, were Dr Singh and Jack Harkness. Integra was present as well, with Walter, Seras, who had dressed herself in a long non-insinuating black dress, Tommy and several Hellsing captains and sergeants. Revy didn't come as her in own words 'seen to many of them'. Yvonne's words were short, and involved the words of duty for Queen and Country. But she did include a short quote from a poem that was uncomfortably close.

_"...O captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells;_

_Rise up! For you the flag is flung, for you the bugle trills:_

_For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths, for you the shores a-crowding:_

_For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning._

_Here Captain! Dear father!_

_This arm beneath your head;_

_It is some dream that on the deck,_

_You've fallen cold and dead..."_

Everyone, even those not in the military or retired, saluted. It was not even the least thing they could do. Afterwards, everyone began to head back for the cars. Everyone except for Yvonne Hartman. She stayed until they finally called a doctor in the late evening and had her sedated.

She was predicted back to work in about two weeks.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**49th Floor, Torchwood Tower**

The long overdue renovations to the floor were going to be more overdue thanks to the attack. All priority was given to the damage on the ground floor and all those above it, except the 49th as it was already being rebuilt. It was bad news for the Torchwood in-house maintenance staff, but especially for Billy Doyle.

Because his girlfriend had left him. His mother died a month ago, and now he was getting into serious money trouble and his landlord threatened to remove him from his apartment if the rent was not due in a week. All of this, combined in a Billy Doyle who could not refuse the request that he would be left alone and do all of the renovations himself. Starting with the electricity grid, of the entire floor.

Now, hidden away in a forest of plastic, Doyle was standing up a cheap, nearly brokedown ladder and was busy working his way through a heap of wires, while trying to remember the function of every single one.

"Fucking wankers...and it's not like they be paying me extra for this bullocks. Cunts, all of 'em."

Doyle connected the last pair of wires, and wished for the better when he turned on the power to test it. But while the lights did go on, several loud flashes came from further away, shrouded by the endless layers of plastic. Damnit, I've must have blown a entire sector away. No doubt who's gonna pay for that crap.

The worker stepped down from the ladder, grunting as he did, and began to walk over to where he had seen the flashes. If possible, he might repair some of the damage if it wasn't too badly burned. Doyle waved his way through the layers and layers of plastic, and wondered if so many were really that necessary. After making it to the place where he thought the flashes appeared, Doyle noticed something.

There was no smell or fume. Not the stench of burned plastic or a blackened ceiling. In fact, the lights were still on and active. Doyle began to wonder if he might have just imagined it. Then he saw something moving behind one of the foils, away from Doyle. Upon closer look, it resembled the shape of a human walking away fast.

"Hey! I saw you, come back here! Oi!"

He went after the moving shade, and realized that it was likely someone was playing a game with him. The cunt probably went the other way around, and wanted to shit him scareless with fireworks or whatever he used to create the flashes. Ain't gonna happen, not today Doyle thought as he pursued the bastard who played the tricks on him. Within seconds, he caught it near a wall, with only a single plastic foil separating them.

"I don't care who the fuck you are, but your getting a beating, friend."

The shadow moved again, but not against the wall as Doyle would expect from a person who would be afraid for a pummelling. Instead, it drew closer and now Doyle could see just how big the other person was, and realize that threatening it may not have been a good idea. Especially because he was now so far away from the main corridors, that nobody would hear him shout if something happened. Doyle backed away, back to the corridors where more people would be and he at the very least would get a witness to testify he didn't start the fight.

But than he bumped into something solid, likely a support beam. And than Doyle realized that there were no support beams in this area of the floor. He turned around, his eyes widened and he screamed, the opposite of shouting as he thought he would be doing.

When the dayshift was finally over and there was no sign of Billy Doyle or if he had finished any work, they reported him skipping on the job, and would send a note to his address that he would no longer be required to return to Torchwood Tower as he was fired. A week from now, the letter would be destroyed along with the rest of Doyle's personal items, by the landlord who kept with his threat.

**The Void**

Some call it the Void. Some call it the Howling. But most called it Hell, as like the original concept, it's a place devoid from all absence. Literally, all absence as there was no life, no death, no heat, no cold no light, no dark, no up nor down. Nothing.

Which made explaining why a blue police box from the planet Earth, from the 60's to be exact, was travelling through it, and yet at the same time didn't. And before its presence was even there, which made it difficult to where there actually was, it was gone. Nothing was sure in the Void, as nothing existed in the Void.

But one thing was sure. Bananas were good. Great source of potassium.

That was a serious belief of the owner of the blue police box, which may or may not have been in the Void. But now definitely not…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Unknown Location**

With the whizzing sound of an engine, the blue police box slowly materialized in a dark underground room that was made out of ancient stone. Even if it did travel the Void, it was now here.

Several seconds went past, before the door of the police box were opened, and a man stepped outside followed by a young woman. The girl looked worried, as their arrival into this place was not planned. The man, on the other hand, was possibly even more happy because something happened that he didn't plan. That, and the fact he didn't have to meet the girl's mother again.

"Doctor...what is this place? I thought we'd be going back to Mum, it's been a month already. And I'm not going to do the washing."

"Actually Rose, it's been 5,000 years and three separate planets since we last saw your mother. Minus another 2,000 when you wanted to see Jesus Christ."

"Hold on, it was you who wanted to see him and ask about the water-wine trick, not me."

"Party pooper that Christ was eventually, now I'll never know if it was true divine power, or the twenty barrels of wine, who were incidentally labelled as 'water'."

"What?"

"Just kidding Rose, just kidding. Must have been on intent, of course. He had a reputation to uphold naturally."

Rose Tyler sighed, as sometimes the Doctor was so bloody eccentric at times, it was nerve-wrecking. Rose closed the door to the police, as all it took was one idiot to go inside and touch something. As if the TARDIS wasn't already as unstable as a elephant on ice-skates. And that showed, as the place they were in was not even close to the London area where her mother lived. It was old and damp, but likely in use as working light bulbs had been installed on the ceiling and the surrounding walls.

"Could this be a bunker?"

"Very possibly, or a dungeon of a castle, but revised to modern standards. Do you hear that?"

Far away, Rose could hear a sound that was likely dampened by the thick walls. It was very familiar but than again not, but she still couldn't place it, except it had something to do what she saw on the telly two years back, before she met the Doctor and did far more exciting things than they did on the TV.

"Any clue what it is, Doctor?"

"I might. But than again, I might not. Its bit too early to draw a conclusion from only that, so let's explore, shall we?"

"What? But you said we'd going to see my Mum! Who's going to do the washing now?"

"Washing, washing. Who cares about washing when we get to explore a strange dungeon?"

"And likely get into trouble again. I'd bet a fiver on that. But there's no reason in convincing you Doctor, so let's meet a new race trying to kill us."

"Always so negative. Think positive for a change, and than take this door for example." The Doctor walked over to a sturdy wooden door, who was almost as old as the stones, except for the modern lock.

"Behind this door, could be anything. Now, while a pessimist like you could say that there will be likely some hostile creature wanting to kill or eat us.."

"Like last time."

"…Yes, but that was last time. This is now time which also works for optimists like me. Also now, we have the possibility of a friendly encounter, with a person who is willing to share food with us. Or nothing at all, which also works but in a less interesting way. Let's find out."

The Doctor opened the door and stepped inside, with Rose following.

There were persons in the room. And they had food which they were consuming at a large oak table. That is where the Doctor's predictions stopped being correct.

The rest followed Rose's predictions, as the persons were all men with short-shaved heads and wearing blue overalls in military fashion. And in the room were besides the table and the men, several weapon racks with assault rifles and other tools of destruction. And though the men were all enjoying a meal and conversation, they all stopped and looked towards the Doctor and Rose who stood in the doorway.

"Good day, or evening if it is that time. Hard to tell when beneath ground, ain't it boys?"

The men in the blue overalls kept staring at him, until one of them stepped away from the table and reached for his sidearm in a holster attached to his belt.

"Alarm!Eindringlingër!"

Though it surprised the Doctor that the TARDIS manipulation of the brain, failed to translate the words into English, he understood enough of Earth languages and that of body language, to know that someone shouting at you and reaching for a weapon isn't a good thing. He grabbed Rose by the shoulders and the closed the door, while saying it had been a pleasure meeting them all but he needed to bring his companion home to her mother.

When the door closed, the Doctor reached for his handy tool, the Sonic Screwdriver and used it to completely seal the lock mechanism of the door, making even the proper key unable to open it. And not a second too soon, as the door was being battered at by strong arms and legs.

"Come on Rose, you were right. Washing is important!" The two began to run back towards the TARDIS, but to their dismay there were two more men, dressed similarly like those in the other room but with black berets and already wielding assault rifles. And they were standing before the TARDIS, blocking that way of escape for the Doctor and his companion. The two turned around and headed the other way, but the two soldiers saw them.

"Halt! Nicht bewegen!"

Rose and the Doctor kept running, past the door that led to the other room, and which to their surprise was suddenly blown apart. The soldiers inside had not taken the patience to await for help, but instead had taken a anti-tank weapon and blown the reluctant door to tiny cooperative bits. And those inside swiftly joined the hunt for the two intruders. Who, kept running until they came across a large stone staircase and went up.

They didn't care where they went, as long as they were away from their pursuers. A way to get rid of them or how to get the TARDIS back was of later concern. As they reached the end of the stairs, another old wooden door appeared. But with a lot of angry soldiers behind them, the time travellers took the risk and opened it, and disappeared.

The soldiers stopped running, and several of them cursed in a non-God-offending way. The one in charge and with the highest rank grabbed a radio from his belt and began to report the situation to the units outside. In this attire and with these weapons, they could not be seen.

As the Doctor and Rose went through the new doorway, they almost stumbled against a group of people standing before the door, and feared that this was the end. But the group hardly noticed them, except the few who were bumped into who gave a annoyed groan towards the Doctor and Rose, and returned their attention to the person who stood apart from the group and was talking. It was a nun, an Asian one to be precise, with glasses and the most innocent and harmless face that a human could have.

"..And the door from which our new fellow visitors just appeared from, for which I do hope they have a proper story to tell to me after the tour, leads to the cellars of the building and are the most ancient part of the palace."

A hand raised from the crowd, a 'fighting hand' as described by it's owner, and gained the attention.

"Yes?"

"Excuse, but do you mean 'palace'?"

"Why yes, this is the holy residence of our divine father on Earth. You must have known that before coming here."

"Ah yes, sorry...but where is 'here', exactly again? It slipped my mind."

"...Sir, do you need a doctor, or a priest? You hardly could forget that you are within the Vatican, the most sacred place on Earth?"

"Oh, yes of course. That solves it all. One more question though. Will there be tea and biscuits at the end of the tour?"


	11. Chapter 11: When in Rome

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- **

**Vatican Palace**

As the nun-freelance tourguide led the tourists through the many works of religion and art to behold and take pictures of them, Rose and the Doctor remained at the back of the group and contemplated their situation.

"Doctor, I think should really be leaving and come back with the police or the army. Heavily armed Germans beneath the Vatican would be enough for a warrant."

"It's a bit too complicated for that, cause you see we were the ones intruding onto their ground first. And than, the Vatican is a indepdent nation, and even the Carabinieri wouldn't be bold enough to ask a Cardinal if they pretty please would go in and arrest people on holy soil. And finally, their Swiss, not Germans."

"Swiss? As in the Swiss Guard? You can't be serious, they never dress like soldiers or carry guns or..."

"That's the public image. Yes. But not let's wander about it, and focus on these monuments of human brilliance and stupidity. Not everyday I get to go sight-seeing, under relative safe conditions. As you may remember, it's usually at the wrong side of a barrel."

"Or maybe this time, at the wrong side of a pike." Rose tugged the Doctor's shoulder and pointed towards one of the hallways, where two Swiss guards in the traditional clothing and weapons, were making their way towards them.

"Ah yes, it seems time to leave...but not that way." From the opposite hallway, another pair arrived, and moved straight for the Doctor and Rose.

Unlike a group of heavily armed men in blue uniforms, the official Swiss Guards wouldn't have a problem removing two people from a tourist party, and than kill them downstairs in the cellars where their comrades in blue awaited. And more kept coming from the hallways, blocking any escape route. Except for one. The Doctor grabbed Rose by the hand, and pushed his way through the crowd, that was looking towards the nun who was describing the history of one of the Catholic Church's most cherised religious artifacts. A wooden chalice that once belonged to Jesus Christ himself.

It wasn't the Holy Grail, but still. Christ used it. And the nun described in all details what a wonderous event that was, and that it was likely the first item in which Jesus turned water into wine. And thus, she was a bit suprised when the two tourists who hadn't been part of the original part, stepped away from the group and towards her.

"Excuse me, but I was speaking here and would like you to return to the others, and...what are you doing? Sir?"

The Doctor walked past her and directly towards the relic entombed by a glass casing. The Swiss Guards had reached the crowd, and started pushing people away to their dismay. The nun became more confused, and her focus hopped between the Doctor and Rose, and the approaching Vatican soldiers.

"Wha..what..."

"You are surrounded, heathen. Surrender or ve vill kill you on the spot."

The Doctor and Rose were used to being threatend, by worser but not directly more dangerous enemies. They began to stand behind the relic display, as the Swiss Guards began to lower their weapons and prepared to attack.

"Oh, and what about those two dozen witnesses over there?"

"Ve don't care, so surrender or die."

"Oh you don't care? That's alright. So you won't care or mind, when we do this!"

The Doctor, and Rose who realized what he was planning to do, both jumped forward and pushed the glass casing of the relic, making it topple and impact on the floor, smashing the glass and damaging the relic. The nun gave a high-pitched scream out of sheer disbelief for this display of violence against innocent relics. The Swiss Guards, already pissed and now even more by this sacrilege, jumped forward to attack.

But the Doctor had planned it aswell, as the Vatican was known to have a extreme security system. The toppling of the display was timed with the time the Swiss Guards would take to attack, and the time it would take for the metal bars to lower themselves downward from the ceiling. They were designed to capture and hold any thief within a 7 metre-radius of the display. And ending up trapping most of the Swiss Guards, while providing a obstacle for the remaining ones.

The Doctor and Rose didn't stand and wait how the Swiss Guards would react, likely a lot of heavy cursing, and ran towards the only hallway that remained free of people wanting to hurt them, and ran up another staircase, but this time to the upper levels.

Behind them, the Swiss Guards expressed their anger by holding up the halberds, and descend them down on the bars who were built to withstand small explosives and blowtorches. Yet the halberds in the hands of these men, sliced through them like knives through butter. And they were very anxious to use them on a pair of intruders who just signed their own deathwarrants...for the second time.

"Wir mussen ihnen die Totüng!"

With fanatic howls the Swiss Guards began to give chase to the escaping targets, and in the chaos, one of them accidently bumped into the nun who had been standing there in shock. And than failed to notice that her glasses came off. As the soldiers left the hall, the nun's shivering stopped and her hand went under her habit, while removing her veil. And out from under her habit, came a katana-sword, nearly a third longer than a normal one. How she hided that under her habit, was a mystery to even her superiors and partners.

Her changed attitude was not a mystery, to both her allies and her enemies. If she had any enemies left. But before she could do show her fanatic zealous love for the Catholic Church and slay those who showed disrespect for it, a shade closed in from behind, and grabbed the glasses from the floor.

"DIE!" The nun whirled around with her sword, reacting on pure combat instinct against the person who was sneaking up behind her, but was suprised as her blade of holy vengeance was blocked against a other katana. But before she could shake off the confusion and unleash her berserker rage against her opponent, he slipped the glasses back before her eyes.

And like changing a channel from a samurai action flick to a Martha Stewart Special, the fanatic dissappeared and the innocent nun returned.

"Wha-what...Oh, hello Uncle Ginji. D-did you like the tour?"

The man who had avoided what could have been a major distaster sighed, and produced a fake smile. His niece was the only relative he had left, even if her other personality was a hazard to all. He sheated his own katana in the walking cane scabbard, and took away the other which had been dropped to the floor.

"Yes, Yumiko, it was done well. Too bad it has been ended by this incident, but do not let go of your hope for a fulltime position as tourguide of the Vatican. It's a honourable position."

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**Hellsing Manor, England **

Exiting her office, Integra and Walter made their way downstairs.

"I applaud your prediction of the Hellsing Organisation needing to expand it's numbers, after the decimation of Torchwood. But asking for permission and warning that a large group of mercenaries entering our grounds to apply for the vacancy, would have been in order."

"My apologies for the sudden event, but they where in the country only for a short while, and I though it to be a shame if we let these people slip our fingers and be killed in some godforsaken foreign country."

"Instead of having them killed here. Are they any good, Walter? I understand that the Army won't allow anymore of it's troops to be admitted to Hellsing, but are these mercenaries skilled enough to add to our current forces?"

"Oh yes. They have been described as proffesionals by several confirmed sources. Unlike most mercenary groups, the Wild Geese have existed for over 40 years, and has a solid strong core of expierenced long time-members. They have suffered losses in a recent assignment, but I was informed of a large reinforcement from another mercenary group to replenish their numbers."

"Very well. Have Seras come down to the motorpool, to show these grunts what they will be up against. And Walter, keep Alucard away. He doesn't act well towards stranger, especially since he considers this to be 'His' house."

Assembled in the motorpool and watched over by a few Hellsing soldiers, the mercenaries were busy talking among themselves, smoke, play a cardgame and everything else a professional killer would do to kill boredom. One part of the group remained quiet, and those who did spoke did that in Russian or in heavily-accented English.

"Hey Bernadotte, what's this gonna be like again?"

"Huh?" The leader of the Wild Geese, turned to his men, who were getting enough of the waiting. They were willing to be bored to death or any other form of getting killed, but only when they got paid.

"Are we gonna raid a army base again?" Another mercenary spoke up, who had two scars on his face, one running horizontal across his nose and one vertical along his right eye."Or is it just some rick fuck who wants the satisfaction of havin' his own private army?"

"Nah, don't be suprised when I tell you all this. This time, our job will be...killin' monsters."

The mercenaries remained quiet for a few seconds, before bursting out in laughters. Even most of the Russians chuckled at that statement, but some did not. Half of them still didn't understand English, and the other half had bad expierences.

"Hahahaha, quite shittin' us!"

"It's true."

Pip, the Wild Geese and everybody else turned to Sir Integra Hellsing, who entered the room with a casual and yet serious expression.

"Your enemies are to be ghouls and vampires which neither die or age. Holy water to be splashed upon the demon, a crucifix stabbed through it's heart and it's head to be sliced off. Impure souls of the living dead shall be banished into eternal damnation. That, gentlemen, is what we do. If you want more information, refer to the classic vampire literature."

This left the entire room stunned, but again except those who knew better. Pip again spoke out, as the natural leader.

"Are you fuckin kiddin us, ma'am? There's no such things as vampires.."

"To be more accurate, you do not know the truth. We never have anyone of the public know the truth. The Hellsing Organisation...and others, have been created to combat the undead, who's goal is to turn humanity into a race of demonic vermin."

"Excuse me?"

"You fellows propably did not understand a word I just said. So see it for yourselves. This is our enemy, the vampire." Integra turned to the door, and snapped her fingers as a command.

And through the door, came the most unlikely vampire imaginable. A blonde, nineteen-year old and 'well-endowed' girl who looked like she would die from anxiety and shyness at any second, dressed in a yellow uniform that was two sizes too short along with white stockings.

Pip gasped and stared, to what might be the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen. And he was French, so that would be saying a lot. So, in the way a person would say 'Are you a angel?', Pip said..

"Are you...a vampire?"

The girl blushed twice the redness that she already had, and became even more nervous. She began to sweat, and responded.

"Uh...I guess so..."

Pip remained silent, until he realized the absurdity of this surrealistic situation and began to chuckle and tried to prevent himself from laughing at this joke. His men, most of the Russians, even the Hellsing soldiers who had seen what the vampire girl could do, found it very amusing. A lot of the assembled were on the verge of near-full out laughter, with the rest snickering.

"See, I told you that they would make fun of me." The girl said to Integra who was also a bit demoralized by this underrated first time meeting for these mercenaries with a real vampire.

"I suppose you are right."

"Wouldn't it be easyier if we just called my master?"

"No, he'll propably kill all of them. But alright, show them what you have, officer. Give them a wake up call!"

"Considered it done, Sir!"

At that moment, Pip was unable to control his dignity and began to laugh himself to near-death.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! Hehehe, if that girl is a vampire than, Then...then I'm Frankenstein, Hahahaha!"

"Like this?" Seras Victoria flicked one finger, and while the finger was barely touching Pip's skin, it came as a right punch from a heavy weight boxing champion. But the Frenchman had worse, and was scrambling from the floor to get up.

"Had enough, Cap'n? I barely lifted a finger." That the big bad mercenary who made fun of her, was now scared out of his wills, made Seras angrier than the humilation he had given her.

"What..what the fu.."

"How about this?" And used a little more force when she flicked her finger again. The little force was enough to send Pip flying, and landing among his own men that went down as a group of bowling pins.

"Captain!"

"Wha..wha..she's a monster! I-I can't see and she just used a finger! What the hell!" This time, it took a lot more time to get up and wipe the blood away that was dripping from his nose, and while he was suprised at first, now he was in true fear for life.

"I said it already. I'm a vampire."

"..You're a real vampire?"

"Got that right."

Through a very solid wall on the opposite side of the room, Alucard phased into the room as a ghost in his outdated red coat and fedora, and his odd orange sunglasses. The demonstration of him going through a wall was more proof for the existence of vampires than any beating up of mercenaries would do.

"Though she is the lowest of vampires, she's still the real deal."

The Wild Geese, and most of the Russians, screamed and stumbled backwards in panic. Vampires didn't exist, but the man in red who walked through a wall just disaproved all of their believes.

"What a pitiful bunch of cowards. They seem so useless."

"Alucard!" Walter ran into the room, but used the door like any proper human."I'm sorry Sir Integra, I'll try to stop him."

"No need to worry about your new toy soldiers, Walter. They're to be the ones protecting my master. I just wanted to see what sort of people they were."

Pip shivered, at the thought of if something happend to his new boss, he would be held responsible by that thing. He was so disturbed, that he barely noticed that the Russians suddenly became active. Under their uniforms and duffelbags came Makarovs and AK-74's, and were aimed at the Hellsing soldiers and the mercenaries. The Hellsing troopers reacted by aiming their MP5's and M4's back at the Russians, but also towards the Wild Geese, believing them to be part of this.

Pip and the Wild Geese were stuck in the middle, and due to the Russian trickery in Kenya, were had been left without their weapons. And especially Pip was the most troubled about that, as he never intended to die in England. That was the wish of every Frenchman, and the prospect of rotting away in a Kenyan prison with the very slight possibly of getting free in order for some unpaid mercenary work. Speaking of which, it troubled Pip even more that they were likley about to die, and he and his men still had not recieved payment.

"You asked what people we were, tovaritsj?"

From the ranks of Russians, came forward a tall woman with lush blonde hair and horrid burn scars covering the rightside of her face. She was dressed in a standard VSD paratrooper uniform and in her hands a Stechkin machine pistol, that was raised and pointed towards Alucard. The vampire was being very amused by all of this as usually strangers trembled in fear.

They did not raise a firearm with calculated proffesionalism, and right now fire it's entire magazine into his face with crack accuracy. Alucard's head was partially torn apart by the 9mm rounds, and dropped back onto the ground with a wet thud. The woman dropped her empty magazine, placed a new one and emptied that one onto Alucard's chest, battering it into devastation aswell. Than the Steckin was lowered and put back into the concealed belt holster.

"It is done. Rest in peace, comrades."

During all of this, nobody moved as all remained in tension as half were in a standoff with each other, and the rest watched in fear of what would happen now a Russian woman just shot a vampire who can walk through walls. However, while Walter and Seras looked worried, Integra looked angry and stepped up to the woman.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you, and who are these people?"

"I am Kapitan Balalaika, and this are my subordinates, the Visotoniki. You might have heard of us as Hotel Moscow."

"Hotel Moscow? You mean that Russian crime syndicate in Thailand? What in God's name would you come to England and start a act of violence towards the Hellsing Organisation along with the Wild Geese?"

"Actually madame, we were more or less forced by them to bring them along and there was this problem with the Kenyan police and..."

"Shut up. Answer my question, Kapitan Balalaika."

"We've come to avenge six of our fallen bretheren, who were killed by that monster over there when he visited our base of operations."

"You refer to that city in Thailand, Roanapur."

"That is correct. He also interferred with a reprisal action towards two Romanian hitmen, who were responsible for the deaths of several more of our people. So not only did he kill one of ours, he removed the chance of payback against other murders. And as you likely know, Hotel Moscow is a organisation that is not built on forgiving."

"I see, but why would you come here, and now dangerously coming close to open war upon Her Majesty's servants?"

"Revenge was obtained, how little that means. Now for our second objective, we wish to serve under you."

If a blue police box just teleported into the room, the announcement made by Balalaika was still able to top that as a event to cause suprise and silence. But again, except Integra. This was quickly becoming a battle of wills and attitudes between the two blondes.

"I see. But considering the current chaotic situation, I suggest we move this conversation to my office. Men, stand down." At her order, the Hellsing soldier lowered their weapons, though not lowering their guard.

"Wonderful, show me the way. Boris, стоять вниз."

Hotel Moscow lowered their weapons aswell, to the relief of the Wild Geese. Their leader ran after the two women who had left the room with Walter, claiming that Integra was hiring the Wild Geese, not Hotel Moscow. Seras remained behind, with a confused look as things had gone too fast. And than her master, with all the little bits of skull and ribcase reassembled again, raised his head towards the departing group, and whistled in admiration.

"Now that, Police girl, is a woman to die for."

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**Upper Floors, Vatican Palace**

The top levels of the palace were reserved for the Pope, and those who served under him. Here, the adminstration and general bureaucracy was done by the cardinals, or better said their servants. If the Roman Catholic Church had a body, this would be it's brain.

A very slow-working brain as some might say, but the running that was currently place inside the brain was nowhere near slow.

"Doctor! Do you have a plan or do we just keep running!"

"If you have a suggestion, I would be delighted to hear it!"

The Doctor and Rose had to the upper floors after the standoff in the galleries, but the Swiss Guard was persistent in it's vow to kill 'ze intruders'. And nothing seemed to stop them, even several big and thick doors that the Doctor sonic-screwdrived to remain locked. It only stopped them for 40 seconds at best, before they hacked their way through with the halberds.

"We need to find a solution soon, as we're running out of corridors fast!"

"Wait, what about that door over there."

Rose pointed towards a door that was at the end of the next corridor, and if their internal geography was correct, would lead to the side that faced the famous Vatican square. At the very least, they would have the option of going through the windows than end up in a broom closet.

"Best idea that wasn't mine I heard today!"

They ran to the door, while behind them the German cursewords were getting louder. Mainly because the two timetravellers had put a antique bench before the last closed door, and the Swiss Guard hacked through it in order to create a opening. And when the Doctor and Rose pulled open the door to their last, and hopefully not thé last, room, the soldiers reached the corridor and saw them.

"Halt! Und Sterb!"

"Sorry, but not today!" He and Rose pushed the suprisingly heavy door to close again, while the horde of angry Swiss came running towards them through the corridor. At the moment the door closed, with a suprising solid 'click' sound, they could feel the impacts of several halberds being slung against it. They continued to batter the door from the other side, but the blades impacted without effect against the most suprisingly sturdy door.

"Well, it seems to be a even better idea than before. Whoever made this had his money well spent. It's some sort of metal, forged steel likely.."

"Actually it's a mixed alloy of titanium and blessed silver that was melted down from a church cross, with three layers of kelvar in between. A birthday gift from the Holy Father himself. But thanks for the compliment."

In their hurry to open and close the door, the Doctor and Rose had failed to notice the large desk near the windows. And the person sitting behind the desk, who was looking down to a note and was writing something down. The man, or better said young man, was in his 20's and had long silver-white hair, tied down in a ponytail. He did not give the slighest hint of being disturbed, or aware of two intruders in his office.

"Ah, we owe you much oblige for the information. And you are...?"

"Enrico Maxwell. Commander in the Vatican Special Operations, of the Section XIII. The Iscariot Organisation." Enrico spoke fluent English, with a slight Italian accent. And he finally looked up, with eyes that spoke of madness and intelligence. A common sight with humans in high places.

"Well, that's certainly impressive. And I'm.."

"The Doctor. Yes, I am aware of that. Question is, Doctor who ?"

"..Just the Doctor, I try to keep it simple and tight. But even with my short title, I'm a tiny bit suprised you even heard of me."

"One does not appear in a blue English police box, without drawing attention. From the men of God, who do keep records of your apparitions. And it is our task to keep track of your ilk."

"With ilk, you mean innocent bystanders?"

"No. Demons. Hellspawn, sons of peridition. And you, Doctor, are most unclean."

"Well, nobody's perfect but that's overstating it a little!"

"Perhaps. But it still remains our divine mission from God to vanquish you. Unless you help with a problem, than you may live a bit longer."

"Since it's against my policy to help self-deluded madmen, I hope you can live with my disagreement."

Enrico shrugged, and nodded to something behind the Doctor. And before the Doctor could turn, he felt cold steel pressed against his neck, and a audible metallic click.

"Doctor!" Rose cried out and moved over to help in some way, but stopped when another click followed.

"Thank you Heinkel for making our point clear to the Doctor. Now, will you aid me in the yet-discussed matter, or now suffer the fate of all those who involve themselves with such sacrilegious works, you dirty sinful heathens."

The Doctor looked at Enrico with a sight that was responsible for setting ten million ships alight. But as easy as the hatred came, it went and was replaced by a more cheery playfulness. This could even be fun.

"I suppose it would be wrong to ignore my job description, for once. So tell me, what seems to be the problem?"


	12. Chapter 12: Pride and Extreme Prejudice

**Enrico's Office, Vatican Palace**

"How do you spell September, Doctor?"

The Doctor has seen and heard many strange things in 900 years. He seen things that people wouldn't believe. Dalek ships on fire, near the rings of Abydos. He watched CVE-beams glitter in the dark near the sun of Telos. All those moments, were nothing compared to the surprise of what Enrico asked him.

"Sorry, but did just you ask me to spell something for you?" The Doctor felt the gun barrel pressed deeper into his neck.

"Awfully sorry, but English was never a priority for me to learn. If not for the zealous effort of the Irish, it might have been a sin to utter it. So please, spell 'September' for me. I hate to make an error on writing this letter."

"To who is it?"

"That is not of your concern, Doctor!" Enrico looked up, with a look of anger and his left eye began to twitch a little.

"If it is that important to you, it's like you say it. Sep-Tem-Ber. Or to make it easier, just write 'Sep', with a little 't' behind it and that works good also."

Enrico watched the Doctor, as if he was just handed a Trojan horse, but with the Greeks standing on top and shouting 'Ha-ha!' Than he looked down to the letter he was writing, and wrote down the correct form of September. Than, all the malice disappeared from his face, though it still remained in the eyes.

"I owe you much gratitude, Doctor. And I am a man who shows his gratitude."

Enrico flicked a finger, and the pressure of the gun disappeared. Rose let out a relieved sigh, which meant the gun aimed at her was lowered as well. The Doctor wanted to feel relieved as well, but there was always a catch.

"Thank you, Mr Maxwell."

"No problem at all. Now, Heinkel." Behind the Doctor came the person with the guns. It was a woman with short blonde hair, in priest attire with long trench coat and black sunglasses shielding her eyes. 'Killer' was what her presence was saying.

"Wow, Matrix meets the Catholics, I'd say." Rose stepped to stand alongside the Doctor, and felt what more reaffirmed.

"Heinkel, take our guests down to the cellars and shoot them." Enrico said it without even looking up, as he was placing the letter in an official Vatican envelope and marked it with the Section XIII seal.

"What!?"

"And shoot the Doctor between the eyes. He deserves it. But take your time with the English heathen sow."

"Sow? You gender-confused cu-" The Doctor interrupted Rose, as she might make things worse. But than again, how could things get worse.

"Only a question before you leave, definitely, Doctor. And pay attention, as this might save your life. Your little police box, is it a teleportation device or a temporal transport?"

"...It's indeed a time-travelling machine. But also a bit of a teleporter, depending on what you wanna use it for. It's called the TARDIS, and you're quite interested in it, I see."

"Well, it's more of a bet with my fellow bishops. They claim you changing your appearance through history like as the Lucifer you are, but I believe you travel through time and appear to create trouble and nothing more than a minor demon. Which would explain the numerous 'incidents' without you being present."

"Incidents?"

"Warlocks, ghouls, vampires and similar breed."

"Did you say vampires? That can't be, if they had been here on Earth I would have known..."

"Perhaps they avoid you, or perhaps you didn't encounter them because they were already vanquished by our organisation. Or by that infidel house in England and their trash disposer."

"Maybe. Or maybe we could skip this and ask why this question was relevant, besides winning you a bet?"

"I want you, Doctor, to take me and a companion to England. Today. And give us enough time to see the entire Imperial War museum, before I have to meet an associate at 3:00 PM."

The Bishop of Iscariot watched the Doctor, with his cold dead eyes. If he had lived during the Inquisition, a much-wished dream of Enrico, every heretic would talk and submit to conversion or torture, just to escape the eyes. The Doctor returned the favour, with the eyes of a man who saw the end of the world. Twice, counting a rerun.

"And I suppose that while I brought you along, Rose would stay here as a hostage?"

"Oh, no, she can come along. I considered taking her hostage and to have her killed if something happened, but since you seem to collect new companions and than throw away the old ones like a child and his toys, it would be futile."

Enrico's remark about being a Time Lord's companion stung both the Time Lord and the current companion travelling with him. Especially Rose, as she remembered Sarah Jane Smith and the way how her travels with the Doctor ended. Enrico seemed to enjoy seeing his comment affecting them, smirked and than continued.

"And I trust me bringing a companion won't a problem, though you can't throw him away like trash."

"Oh no. You can bring companions if you like. The whole church even, though it might get a bit of a down atmosphere inside the TARDIS with all that preaching and Judgement talk."

"Are you, afraid of Judgement, Doctor?"

"No. Because I've already seen it. And let me tell you something, Maxwell. There is nothing worse than surviving through it."

Enrico's smirk faded away, and he gestured Heinkel to come over to him, and whispered something in her ear and handed her the envelope before she left the room. Than he walked back to his desk, sat down and stared at the Doctor, who just stared back until somebody knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Opening the door was an elderly priest with the face of a loved grandfather, both jolly and wise. His handshake, proved a different person inside the friendly exterior, as it nearly crushed the Doctor's hand. Enrico stood up, and snatching up a pair of sunglasses and putting them on, he stood by the door.

"Alright, Doctor. Show us your 'magic'. Failure will be punished with death, as a reminder."

"Humph. Tough audience."

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**Integra's Office, Hellsing Manor**

It remained quiet, though the two women in the office had a lot to talk about. But for now, they seemed content with smoking their own special brand of cigar that only women in their position would smoke. And the both of them knew, that they should discuss the fact of 80 armed Russians who are members of a international crime syndicate. Yet both of them were unwilling, as to them, it was a matter of life and death to appear the stronger one, by replying with a witty remark.

Thankfully, they had Walter in the room to take the first step.

"Mrs Balalaika..."

"Miss Balalaika. Due to my military career and the resulting situations, I was never married." The burns did hide some parts of the fact that she was a attractive woman in her 30's.

"Why did you come to England, and invade our house. As you might have been aware, Alucard cannot be killed."

"Da. We figured that much when he ripped apart Olliyich and Kirill. After they fired a RPG into him."

"So you know that revenge is futile. Why did you come?"

Balalaika stood up from her seat and walked over to the window, through which came a near-blinding shower of sunrays that seemed to engulf her. Integra tended to do the same, in difficult times, but only when it was indeed a sunny day.

"Do you remember the moment when you saw a person die, and for the first time, felt nothing? No distress, no guilt, no anger, no relief. Just...acceptance."

The others nodded. What they did, was not pretty. Or good for one's mental health.

"And than, BAM. A conflict, in which you lost too much, suddenly ends without a victory, but with a shameful retreat. Than you spend your days watching TV, and see how the world crumbles around you and all that you knew when you grow up, is shattered. And the worst thing is, nobody cares. At the end, you seek out your old comrades and start a new war with lesser foes, just to have a purpose and feel alive again."

"Interesting, but again, what does that to do with us?"

"As you might know, criminals, though sometimes tenacious and cunning, are hardly the stuff of nightmares. Most of them run and scatter before you kill even half of them. So even life in Roanapur became boring. Until the twins came."

"You mean the two Romanians?"

"Yes, the vampires. They killed seven of my men, and after learning their identity and employer, we were ready to have our vengeance. Until your own vampire interfered and killed the twins, and several of our soldiers before he went away. But he could have killed all of us, even the entire city, with ease."

Balalaika turned to Integra, with eyes that were filled with the fires of war.

"England has revealed itself to be a land of monsters. And we, Sir Integra, want to become part of that. Criminals are an infinite breed of the simple and weak-minded. Vampires are what warriors like you and me aspire to fight. And the stakes are much higher than a desolate hill or a rundown city block. This is about the very lives and souls of humanity itself!"

Balalaika returned to her seat, still followed by the eyes of whom she believed to be an insane person. Their reaction to it would be different however.

"To put it in short, me and my men request to join your organisation and your mission. To be frightened and made nervous by the horrors that await us here. And to die like we were supposed the day we joined the VDV, and not grow old in a room and have death take us in the cold night while we lay in our beds."

"Jesus Christ lady, you take this a bit too seriously, et alors?" Pip saw his chances of having Wild Geese be hired to fade as much as the chances of getting his weapons back from the Kenyan police.

Walter felt the clouds gathering above his head, for bringing this trouble to his Master in these difficult times.

Integra herself had not said a word during the meeting. She kept it to staring to Balalaika, in a way that would be similar to watching a live-broadcast of a aquarium. To the patience and fear of Pip and Walter, she remained so for a while. Than she extinguished her nearly burnt-up cigar and stood up.

"Very well. Consider you and your men to be put on a trial-period in which I will tolerate no failure or misbehaving. If a single word about anything involving Russians in any negative sense appears in the newspapers, you will removed from this country. Is that understood?"

"Yes. Without any problems."

"And you will all receive the pay of privates in the regular army, until you have proven yourselves capable of a rank beyond that. You will reside in the dorms in this manor, until suitable housing has been arranged. That is my only offer."

"We fought in Afghanistan, sleeping on bare rocks and sand weeks at a time, while receiving no pay, and sometimes not even supplies for months. We can handle the 'hardships' of what a English soldier has to endure."

"And as for you, Captain Bernadotte. Consider yourself hired as well. But since our monetary aids were aimed at supporting only one group, you will share the same quarters and same salary as Captain Balalaika's unit until our financial concerns are solved. Accept or be gone from this place."

Pip wanted to drop to the floor, and curl up. What a week ago had sounded like a easy no-do job, as what danger was there in protecting a old mansion in suburban London, with very reasonable pay and comfortable housing. What he got, was a nightmare, filled with monsters, cramped quarters, pay that was severely below the average for mercenaries. And all of that because of a crazy Russian woman who is addicted to war.

God is indeed the biggest bitch of them all, as his youth friend Jean-Pierre once said. Too bad he is now rotting in some jungle, to gain the pleasure of converting Pip.

"I agree with the terms, Madam."

"Good. Than our business is concluded here. Inform your men to report to Commander Ferguson to find quarters. And as you are now both are in the employ of the Hellsing Organisation and Her Majesty, you are dismissed."

The two nodded and left the room, one grumbling and one victorious in her own way. Walter was about to follow them, before stopping and returning to Integra's desk.

"Oh, yes. Sir, I have something to tell you."

"Very well, let's hear it, Walter."

"We received this, only a few minutes ago."

Walter reached out his hand, holding out an envelope that had a red seal imprinted on it. Integra took the envelope, and tried to find what was special about it.

"This..?"

"Please take a look at the sender's address."

Integra took a closer look as instructed, and her eyes widened when she believed to correctly have read the words that were written.

"Section XIII, the Iscariot Organisation. Sent by...Enrico Maxwell?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Next Day**

**Imperial War Museum, London**

Founded in 1917 to commemorate those who had fallen in the Great War, and later moved to a former psychiatric hospital, the museum was a showcase for all the modern conflicts that Britain had endured in the 20th century. There was even a tribute to the end of the Cold War, a piece of the Berlin Wall standing outside.

In the museum's art gallery, a collection of paintings and other items of art focused on war and military, Integra stood for a painting. It was '_Knight in the Battle of the Milvian Bridge_' from an unknown artist. As she regarded the pictured portrayal of vast armies slaughtering each other in a futile bid for power, she thought about the letter she received yesterday.

_Dear Sir Hellsing_

_Leader of England's Royal Protestant Knights_

_Is the crisp fall air not perfect for a visiting the museum? Meet me at the location described below on the 10th of September, at 3:00 P.m. If you wish to see me._

_Signed, Bishop of the Holy Church, Enrico Maxwell_

_Vatican Special Operations_

_Section XIII_

_The Iscariots_

"Walter, the time?"

"3:00 P.m. Precisely."

"Our host appears to be late. Could it be...that we have fallen into another trap?" The previous business in Ireland with the Iscariots ended badly, and Integra believed it not to be beyond those Catholic dogs to renew their treachery.

"Impossible, Sir Integra. Though we are dealing with the Vatican, they would not dare to make an aggressive move against us under broad daylight. After all, we have the home field advantage, and they are hundreds of miles away from any support."

"That may be, but the Vatican was never known for rationality...what is that sound?"

There was a distinctive and strange filling the corridors, a cyclic wheezing, groaning noise. And just ten feet away, as if it was an apparition of a ghost, a blue-coloured police box from the 50's materialized into view.

Integra and Walter could do nothing but stare, as the object became solid, and suddenly its door were opened from inside. And coming through those doors, were one of the oddest collections of people ever seen. First there was an elderly man in a priest's attire. Behind him, a much younger man also in clerical clothes, but with a pair of sunglasses.

Following them, was another man, in a dark brown pinstripe suit. And exiting the police box as last, was a young woman in casual street-clothing. She was the only one out of the four, who was clearly not having a good time.

"Wow! I never imagined the Imperial War Museum having such a fantastic collection, it's magnificent."

"Yes, it's unrivalled in quality and comprehensiveness."

"Indeed, I feel the same. Just marvellous."

"They sure have a lot of new aeronautical artefacts as well."

"It was the first time I saw that fighter. If we still have time, we should return and observe it more closely and...Oh!"

The three men finally noticed that they were not alone, and that a rather silent but angry Integra and a calm but slightly shaken Walter were staring back at them.

"Drat. It seems you miscalculated our appointment, Doctor."

"I'm sorry, but that happens when your own TARDIS was scheduled to be demolished nearly 900 years ago, and is practically hanging together from duct tape and Gallifreyan bubblegum."

"These, Dame Rose, are our English rivals. They are the Hellsing organisation. And apologies to you, lady, and good afternoon, good afternoon. I'm terribly sorry for..."

"Do not approach me any further." The anger in her voice was audible to even the Doctor and Rose, who concluded that Enrico and this woman had some bad business in the past.

"What trickery is this? And what business does Iscariot have in England in the first place? How dare they send a little obnoxious boy to represent their band of murders and fanatics?" Integra's comment seemed out of place, as she was around the same age as Enrico.

"Ha, don't you think you are getting a bit too far, Lady Hellsing? I certainly do not feel very welcomed." He took off the sunglasses and revealed his ice-cold blue eyes, tickling with arrogance and pride. And took on a cocky smirk.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am the commander of Section XIII, Enrico Maxwell. It's a real pleasure to finally meeting you, Sir Integra Hellsing."


	13. Chapter 13: Sense and Sinister

**Imperial War Museum**

"Self-introductions are unnecessary, state your business."

"Haha, please don't be angry. I'm not here today to start a conflict." Enrico found it all to be very amusing , and was unwilling to spoil his fun and become serious. Integra, had not such desires.

"How am I to believe that! Your Iscariot organisation violated countless signed treaties when it dispatched Father Anderson to North-Ireland in a attempt to assasinate Alucard. You not only attacked my organisation, two of my soldiers were killed in that attack."

Enrico kept the smirk, while looking nonchalant towards Integra as if none of the words had any effect.

"I was almost killed in that attack too. Don't tell you weren't aware!" Enrico finally looked at her

"So what?"

"What do you mean, 'so what'? What makes you think you have the right to dismiss this."

"I don't care if it's two English casualties or two million. We would never deal with your heretical ilk if it not were a direct order from the Holy Father."

Enrico leaned forward, and shed away the casuality and pretenses of sanity from the earlier moments. The monster revealed itself in the articifial lights of the art gallery.

"So I suggest that you shut up and pay attention. You ignorant heathen sow."

"Sow? You really seem like that word, or are unwilling to expand your vocabulary." The man who had been watching this from the sidelines, finally said a word. Integra wondered just who that person was, as he did not seem to be a ally or supporter of Enrico.

"...Doctor. I remember a part of our deal being that you would not speak or interfere, in exchange for your life. I am tempted to break that agreement."

"Than break it. I'm not filled by fear by crossing the Iscariots. Without your Swiss chocolate soldiers to enforce your will, like the Church did throughout history with it's pawns, you hold no power over me or anyone with common sense."

"Oh, I'm paralyzed in fright by your disrespect. Thus, I'm afraid we can't talk business anymore. I warned you, that I kept you alive for a purely trivial matter, otherwise you would not be standing here. But if you wish, than we shall say...goodbye!"

Enrico regained a vicious smile, and flicked his fingers.

"ANDERSON!"

Before the others turned to the sound of footsteps at the other side of the hall, the Doctor already turned and saw the newcomer making his way towards them. The distance made it hard to identify him, but already there was something familair, and dangerous. Especially because of the way how the person was wielding a pair of bayonets in both hands. But the most scary about it was that now even Enrico was looking suprised.

"_And now O kings, be ye wise. Be admonished, ye judges of the earth. Serve the Lord with fear and rejoice with trembling. Kiss the Son lest He grow angry, and ye perish in the way for His wrath may quickly kindle._"

And now he remembered. The Doctor quickly stepped forward and grabbed Rose by her arm, pulling her backwards towards the TARDIS. Enrico became nervous, as the man ahead seemed to be totally lost in his own state of religious fury.

"No! Anderson! Stop it!"

"_I shall purify the wicked with a single blow. Mine enemies stand before mine eyes. Who shall mourn for Iscariot? Who shall mourn for the Vatican?_"

"Doctor, who is that bloke...?" Though Rose didn't know what he was or how the Doctor knew him, but likely from one of his earlier travels, it was new to see the Doctor nervous.

"Old friend. Old wounds. Old urge to kill me. New necessity to run!"

"Yes please, go now Doctor! We shall speak another time perhaps, he's lost control at the sight of you!" Enrico earlier smugness, casuality, and possibly even his madness were to revealed a fake, as he was visibly worried and had sweat glitter his forehead.

While Integra and Walter remained to watch the whole theatrics in confusion, the Doctor and Rose began to run back to the TARDIS, and were near the door. But it was too late, as Anderson pulled back his right arm in the preparation of a throw of the bayonet.

"_In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit...Amen._"

And than he threw the blessed blade at the Doctor, just about when the time traveller had opened the doors of the TARDIS, and turned just in time to see his oncoming demise. That's funny, the Doctor thought as time slowed down. He expected the final blow to his very long life to come from a Dalek or a Sontaran, or even slipping on a banana peel and suffer a injury beyond regeneration.

But by a priest, a Catholic one, in a art gallery? Never.

And it never will, as there was the sudden thunder of a gunshot, and the bayonet shattered mid-flight. The forward end of the blade still continued on it's flight, but was driven enough off course to miss the Doctor, and go past him through the open doors of the TARDIS and end up somewhere inside. Anderson's spectacled eyes went wide at this example of almost divine intervention. But while it was definately intervention, it was nowhere divine.

"What the...you!"

Integra wasn't suprised when Anderson gestured to a point beyond her, and that a long-barreled semi-automatic pistol which was far too heavy and big for any human to handle, now appeared besides her in mid-air. After the gun, the rest of the vampire known as Alucard phased into reality. His smile was wide and revealed his pointy fangs, and his amusement at this situation. Alucard took out his second weapon while treading his ominous walk towards Anderson.

"To reign over the kingdoms of the world, to make its peace and write its laws; to be generous to the obedient and merciless to all who would stand against you. Nothing ever changes. Two thousand years and you still act like the world is yours. You shouldn't have come here, Catholic!"

"Hehehe you're just in time. To perish, vampire!"

In the background, the blue police box began to make it's strange noise, as it faded into nothingness. While Alucard raised his weapons to counter those of Anderson, the vampire made a side glance to the dissapearing time travelling machine.

"I will see you around, Doctor..."

Alucard focused on Anderson again, and with a smile awaited the battle of his lifetime. Both of them would not surrender a quarter, nor yield in the face of defeat. This would start and only end when one of them died, permanently. And as the combat that would mean the end for either Iscariot or Hellsing, a single phrase ruined that chance.

"Attention tourists! This is the art gallery!"

No magic item or piece of technology, could end a fight as quickly as a group of elderly tourists who were unaware of the death and destruction that was about to flood this museum.

"Why does this priest have masonry trowels in his hands?"

"Ohhh...it has to be one of those juggling performances! I used to love those when I was a boy."

"My heavens, what guns does this young man have."

"Good grief, it's huge!"

"Y'know, back in France we never had weapons that good."

"Oh bugger, that old warlord is at it again."

Upon realizing the current absurdness of the situation, the two forces of light and dark lowered their weapons.

"Alucard?"

"Yes?"

"I think we should do this another time."

"Yes, you're right. The magic is gone."

And as if nothing had happend, the two turned around and began to walk back from which they came. They had plenty of time to kill each other in the future. Didn't stop his mistress from giving him a odd look.

"I'm going back to sleep. With Anderson gone, Walter can handle whatever harsh language the Catholics will use."

"I shall return to Rome than. And this is truelly a wonderful museum. I should bring the children next time." The fanatic vow to slay all heretics and demonspawn were forgotten for the moment, and Anderson even brought up a smile. But even still his own master was a bit creeped.

"...That's great."

With their troublesome subordinates gone Integra and Enrico, as one swine to another, agreed to continue their meeting in the coffee shop outside. The things they needed to discuss were too heavy to be spoken when standing on both feet. And both of them were getting tired.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**The TARDIS**

Inside the control room, the Doctor ran around with haste, pushing and pulling buttons and levers. But not with the enthuastic speed of someone looking for a new adventure. It was from a man escaping danger. Still, he didn't let it get to him. Not if this was the first time it happend.

"That went well Rose, didn't it? Met new people, new places, and even found time to visit a museum! Just please ignore the fact that we were nearly killed at the beginning and again at the end."

"Doctor..."

"Yes, I know, museums aren't your thing. But you should have ignored the bad things from before, and take some interest in history. I can't keep explaining every single little thing that happend on your planet. I'm a Time Lord, not a historian."

"Doctor!" Rose's voice sounded urgent.

She was pointing towards the console, to a section that the Doctor had ignored until now as it was only required for the final part of the next time jump. He planned it to be towards a little nice quiet cafeteria on Rigel. But as he looked to what Rose was urging him for, he realized that it wouldn't be possible. They be lucky to live in the next moments.

The forward tip of the bayonet that the priest with problems had flung at them in the art gallery, had embedded itself into the time rotor on top of the console. And while the Doctor wasn't enough of a mechanical expert to inmedialty see the problems that would be created from, he knew enough to know that this wasn't good.

And he was, like most times, proven right instantly. One of the console boards exploded in a shower of shards and sparks, making the Doctor pull Rose away from the consoles to shield her from the resulting damage effects. More sparks flew from the remaining consoles and the lights began to falter. Though not as nearly as bad as that time with the Cybermen, the console was sustaining too much heavy damage to stay in mid-flight. Several oxygen masks fell downwards, but were ignored.

"Doctor, the TARDIS!"

"I know! I'll try a emergency landing, but the final destination will be pretty random. We must just hope the TARDIS hasn't hold a grudge from the last time."

The Doctor held up a arm to protect himself from the sparks, and reached for a large lever in the middle of the consoles. He grabbed it and pulled it down. The lever served as the TARDIS's emergency break, to stop where the time machine was at and the most safest location within limits. Meaning that while it won't materialize in the middle of a ocean, it won't be polite enough to consider hostile elements other than geography.

Wherever it ultimately appeared, it revealed to have lost the ability to judge the distance towards the surface. As it materialized two metres above ground, the police box fell and impacted with a loud bang, to the discomfort of the people inside. And after a few minutes of salvaging what can be rescued, and concluding that their new parking location would need some observation as it would take a considerable time before the TARDIS was going anywhere, the two occupants exited.

And found themselves yet again, in another underground cellar.

"This is marvelous. What you do think? The TARDIS is becoming a gothic?" Rose said with a sarcastic tone.

The Doctor ignored her, and peeked around in the dark cellar. Unlike the one in the Vatican, it was purely brickwork, and not very old compaired to the former's Roman origins. He placed his hand upon the wall, and looked at the seems and corners.

"I reckon this is late 19th century, perhaps even begin 20th century construction. And very expensive, likely that of a rich noble or succesful business man. And what's this.." The Doctor brought his face closer to the wall, and than stuck out his tongue and licked a point on the wall. He inmediatly retracted it and spit on the ground, with much disgust.

"Ackgh..it's just incredible.."

"What, Doctor? What is it with the walls?"

"Blood. Every inch of those stones is soaked with blood. And I could pretend that this used to be a overly messy abattoir, if this blood wasn't Human."

"Human? Oh God.."

"He had nothing to do with this Rose. Or at least I hope. Now, unless you want to carry the TARDIS on your back, we need to find some equipment to repare it and get out of here."

"But, didn't you just say these walls were covered in the blood of humans?"

"Yes, but it's at least several decades old. Still, we shouldn't risk our luck, and try to get away from this place as soon as possible." The Doctor gestured to Rose to follow him, and the two went further into the basement.

Considering their last expierences, they did not open any of the doors in the corridor that lay beyond the vast space where the TARDIS landed. They went on until they met a staircase, that led up right to a door. Rose turned the Doctor, with a annoyed expression.

"If there's another tourist group up there, I'm going to sit in the TARDIS and not come out until we are finally on a planet with nothing more than warm, sandy beaches and cocktails with little straw hats."

"Abydos had all of that, you know."

"And robots, lots of robots. Who tried to kill us. And you ended up blowing the planet up! But strangely enough, we didn't meet any new people during that. I guess your way of communicating is failing, Doctor."

The Doctor shrugged, clearly not willing to listen to the false accusations of him blowing up places by random or by form of communication. Instead, as the two reached the end of the stairs, opened the door and ventured into the hallway of a old but well-maintained mansion. The door was also revealed to be a huge mirror, masquerading the entrance to the basement.

It brought a smile to the Doctor's face, but Rose winced.

"Oh please no. Don't tell we ended up in the Adams family's mansion."

"With paintings of Elizabeth and Henry the Eight? Don't think so. Still, let's keep it quiet, and look if the owner of can be reasoned with. I don't want the police banging on the doors of the TARDIS."

As they walked on, they missed a little red light hidden in the door, blinking in rapid motion. The mansion was huge, and seemed to be empty for the most part. They walked around for minutes, and still nothing, not even a sound. Eventually, Rose and the Doctor ended up in a huge entrance hall with large wooden doors leading to the exit. And still, not a soul.

"It's quiet. Perhaps too quiet."

"HOLD IT! STAY WHERE YOU ARE OR YOU SHALL BE FIRED UPON!" The warning was accompanied by a storm of clicking sounds, weapons being cocked and put off the safety option.

"Suddenly it's too loud. I preferred it when it was quiet."

"SILENCE! Put your hands behind your neck. And slowly turn towards us. Slowly!"

The man shouting the warnings and commands sounded serious, and armed, so the Doctor and Rose did as ordered. And to their suprise as they turned around, it was almost mathetically impossible to have so many men have a gun trained on them, compaired with the ammount of the mansion they explored. The Doctor wouldn't be suprised if they had a 4th dimensional storage facility for men with guns. Always handy.

The soldiers were military, perhaps paramilitary. Strange thing about them was that while they all wore the same uniforms, most of them differed in weapons which was unusual for a strict organisation. They also had three varieties of barets, namely red, blue and green, which could indicate different functions or rank. But they seemed to be in England, as the leader sounded British. But than again, the Doctor considered, if they were unlucky, they could be the personal army of a rich man with a superiority-complex like Van Straten. Such people weren't only reserved to the Americans.

"Alright, who are you people, and how were you able to infiltrate this facility? Don't think we'll go kindly on you to avoid charges, the police has no jurisdiction here." The man who spoke, was young but expierenced. And the Doctor found something familair about him, though he couldn't quite tell what.

"Doctor...say something."

"Hello! I'm the Doctor and this is Rose Tyler. Uh, we were just passing your charming mansion and we thought to just drop in."

"From inside our basement?" Another soldier asked.

"Well, you have to start low to have a better view of the top."

The leader had gone silent, and watched the Doctor with a gaze that betrayed deep thinking, and suddenly his eyes went wide.

"Doc-tor? Thé Doctor?"

"Yeah. Heard of me before, I take it."

"I have indeed. From another person, You might remember. Brigadier Leighbridge-Stewart. I'm his grandson, Captain Thomas Leighbridge-Stewart. And he remembers you very well."

"Your the Brig's grandchild? I can't believe it, fantastic! How is the old grunt, still enjoying his retirement I assume, or has he taken over the military out of boredom?"

"..No. Still in retirement and unlikely to return. And he did tell me a lot about you, Doctor. Like you being the smartest and bravest person he ever met."

"Really? Never thought he would admit that."

"Yes, he did. But he also told me that if you were allowed to talk, you could turn Catholics into Protestants. So you are be a gifted speaker. Which forces me to order you to cease conversation and follow me to the holding cell. There, you and your 'Companion' will wait until our commander returns and decides what will be done with you. And as a reminder, stop talking, Doctor."

"Why, talking is my speciality, besides making banana daquiries. What makes you think you can change the best thing about me?"

The Brig's grandson looked at the Doctor, and while keeping his eyes fixed, raised his M4 rifle, and fired a burst of rounds into the ceiling. And made his point clear.

"Alright, you want to go the easy and brutish way. Lead on, Captain."

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**Coffee Shop Terrace, Imperial War Museum**

As Enrico gave his information upon England's newest foe, at the price of a humiliating 'Please' from Integra, a different conversation was taking place at the other end of the terrace. A outsider would look at the two men sitting at a table both enjoying a cup of tea, and the only thing that would come up was that the short one should lose some weight. Their relaxed stances and smiles, betrayed nothing of the horrors within them.

"Will you hasten the plan?"

"No, everything is proceeding suitably, even with the new changes. Those only strengthen my predictions. Another cup of tea, please." The other man gestured a waitress to bring them new refreshments. Than he looked back at the man opposite of him and observed his behaviour.

"..You seemed pleased, Herr Direktor."

"Yes, very pleased indeed." The Direktor glanced backwards, to the distant shapes of Enrico and Integra, before returning his gleeful glance to his compatriot.

"Just imagine. This was a critical step for our plans. The next encounter is sure to be filled with blood and gore. Perfect, don't you think?"


	14. Chapter 14: Terror Rising Part 1

**Fort Tourgis, Alderney**

In the northeren parts of the Channel island Alderney, lay Fort Tourgis. It was build in 1855 as a defense for the Alderney Breakwater, a huge construction at the time. It was later occupied and reinforced by German forces during WWII, who turned it's cellars into a massive underground network of tunnels and bunkers. A recent attempt of a developer to turn the fort into flats, fell through because negotiations were stalled.

It was the most diplomatic way of saying 'Sorry, but it's already used by a semi-secret paramilitary international organisation that defends Britain and the entire Earth against exterrestial threats.'

UNIT wouldn't like to share it's primairy Channel-based headquarters, with yuppies from London. They turned the former British, temporairy German, and now British fort into a high-tech observation post for paranormal activities on the Europan mainland and the waters of the English Channel. It also served as auxillary command centre, if England would fall under a alien threat and UNIT was forced to retreat and regroup.

Tourgis had a small staff of at most 8 personnel at a time. And because of the sheer boredom their task involved, as nothing happend in the Channel for nearly 30 years, half of that number spend their time outside or with the villagers of the nearby St Anne. It was either that or go mad. Little did they know, somebody else would take that affliction upon them..

It began when Sergeant Brahms took her place behind the reception desk, the first barrier of defense against unwanted guests and stuck-up politicians who demanded to see where the taxpayer's 20 million a year went. But most of the time, it was relatively peaceful, even with the frequent visits from Mrs Grey. She was one of the eldest inhabitants on the island, living alone in a old house near the cliffs. And because she was a fanatic birdwatcher, a ornithologist in her own words, she believed that the military with all it's fancy expensive monitoring equipment would also be much interested in the same subject.

Sergeant Brahms actually wasn't interested in birds, in neither the literal or the figuratively meaning of the word. But as the old Mrs Grey was a verbal machinegun, it was a good enough way to kill the time until her shift was over and she could head for the local pub or take a walk and inhale fresh air. So Sergeant Brahms wasn't surprised when the woman wandered into the reception.

However, the pale and disoriented look on Mrs Grey's face, who always had been a friendly one was a bit disconcerning. And Brahms was unsure to make of the long brown-paper wrapped package under her arms, which she held onto as if her life depended on it. It looked something terrible has happend, and Mrs Grey was having difficulty to accept it. Perhaps her dog died.

"Mrs Grey? How are you today?"

No response, so Brahms repeated the question in a louder tone, which shook Mrs Grey from her trance, and weakly smiled back.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. I was miles away."

"You sure ye'r alright, Mrs Grey?"

"Yes, yes. I believe it's the weather getting to me. It's been quite chilly of late, with those horrid winds and fog."

"Yeah.." Brahms turned to the window that gave a view on the conditions outside. Even in the middle of September, the sun was absent most of the time while the wind and rain replaced it, with the occasional fog. Speaking of which, Brahms remembered what had been noted on the NATO weather report that just came in two hours ago. Though it was semi-classified, Brahms turned back to Mrs Grey.

"Mrs Grey, they'd expecting the worst fog in a decade toni...Oh Go-" Before her sentence ended, most of the right part of her head, was blown away in a cloud of red mist. Blood and stray chunks of skull splattered on the wall behind her.

Even people without any medical expierence would have been able to tell that Sergeant Brahms was definately dead at this point. It didn't stop the second round of buckshot to hit the dead UNIT NCO in the center of her chest, and ended up turning most of her cleavage into hamburger meat. All of this gruesome mutilation, performed by the antique double-barreled rifle now resting in Mrs Grey's shaking hands.

The thick smoke and stench of gunpowder filled the small reception, while the larger chunks of brain matter left a trail of blood on the wall as they began to slide downwards. Mrs Grey's underlip began to tremble as she gazed upon the carnage that she had caused. Her knees quivered, and she felt the urge to drop down on them and beg for forgiveness from God.

"We have already gone beyond whatever we have words for. In all talk there is a grain of contempt."

Mrs Grey turned around, and saw a man in a black habit. He was the town's priest, a new one after the old one died a month ago in a freak pitchfork accident. And he was the Prophet, though like most Prophets, a bit hard to understand at times.

"W-What?"

"Friederich Nietzsche. A wise man. Almost as wise as the decision you took to claim your superiority above the rest of mankind. We were born to rule. They.." The priest pointed at the remains of Sergeant Brahms "..were born to serve and die."

Mrs Grey, who almost lost her faith after her gruesome ending of another life, felt her convinction renewed. It's been too many lonely nights in the cold and too much poisonous words spilled into her ears to restore something called 'humanity'. While not a fully hundred percent, she gripped the double rifle tighter, and removed the empty shell before taking out a new pair from her wintercoat pocket. After inserting them, she clapped the rifle back into firing mode and walked towards Brahm's deceased body. The old woman removed a red securitypass attached to the younger woman's belt, and continued onto her quest for destruction.

The priest watched her leave through the next door that led to the rest of the UNIT facility. The only ones besides the late Brahms, were either outside or in the village, or were sitting in the soundproof control room. Speaking of which. The priest took out a small black cellular from beneath his habit, and called a number. After a few rings, someone finally answered. With the typical voice of a old English man who spent his final days in the pub, telling stories nobody was interested in but still listened to be polite.

"This is George Wilde of the Queen Liz, how can I help you?"

"This is Father Vereker you are speaking with, my son."

The other end of the line went quiet, besides a soft gasp. In the background, there were the sounds of men talking in a pleasant manner. Though vague, Vereker could distinct a voice saying 'And our thanks to the people of St Anne, for their generous and hospitable behaviour to the folks of UNIT..' and the rest was lost in a massive cheer.

"..Reverend? Is it...time?"

"I like these calm little moments before the storm. It reminds me of Beethoven. Can you hear it? It's like when you put your head to the grass and you can hear the howlin' of the sea and you can hear the seagulls. Do you like Beethoven?"

"..I-I couldn't really say, Reverend."

"Than begin your work. Contact me when your task is complete. Nothing must stop the awakening! Leave none alive!"

"Y-Yes...R..considered it done." The man on the other line sounded like he was in a sudden trance, and didn't even bothered to put down the phone and disconnect. The cheer was still in the background, but it began to die down. Vereker could hear some worried mumbling, a shout of pain, and than gunfire. Though he enjoyed a good slaughter, he disconnected the cellular.

Even with his new-found immortality and the fact he could kill every person on this island with ease and turn them into servants without soul or mind, it was important for the plan to keep them human, how weak they may be. Implanting the hypnotic suggestions during the church visits, and activating them with quotes from people that Vereker liked was still a amusing work of playing people like puppets. He made it a habit of having the quotes be from people he admired. Like Friederich Nietzsche and his understanding of the need for superior beings, or Gary Oldman's character from that French movie.

In the distance, Vereker could hear the loud boom of Mrs Grey's antique family relic. Apparently someone from UNIT had left his station to get a cup of coffee. He should have known that caffeine could kill you. And Vereker began to follow the bloodtrail that the old woman had left behind, in order to make the preperations of the second phase of the plan that his superiors had briefed him on.

And made a mental note of recommending that Gary Oldman should be spared in the upcoming storm. Such talent should not be turned useless by making him a ghoul or dead, which had little difference in the end. Only the dead has the wit to stay dead.

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**_Maria Zeleska_, English Channel**

When Hotel Moscow first came to the local Russian maffia leaders with the request to enforce their interests in the worst and most dangerous shithole imaginable, there were few who didn't see the use of a company-sized group of combat veterans. But still, they needed to be tested, in case they were working for the goverment as a mass undercover group.

Their first mission under the command of the maffia, was to eliminate a weapon-smuggling operation of a rival criminal organisation who was operating from a ship in the docks of Archangel. Not only was the mission a complete succes and the annhiliaton of the rival crime syndicate a easy task compaired to the fighting against the Mujahideen fighters, they also got a 'souvenir' of the ordeal.

It was the former ship of the crime syndicate, who was renamed as the Marie Zeleska and served as the personal ship of Hotel Moscow, and now of the Hellsing Organisation. Currently, it was on a prisoner transport to Alderney. Who the prisoner was, or why he was being sent to Alderney didn't concern the ship crew. They only knew, that the prisoner was incredibly, scaringly and annoyingly good at poker.

In the cargo hold, surrounded by cargo crates and armoured vehicles, a small circle of crates had been created to have a improvised poker table.

"Ah! I win again, you might notice now. What says you, Lieutenant Kirill?"

"черт возьми!!" Lieutenant Kirill was one of the few men in Hotel Moscow to have joined the unit after the retreat from Afghanistan, and wasn't as heavily expierenced or trusted like the rest. But he still followed every order that his commander would give him to the letter. And that was the only thing preventing Kirill from pulling his Makarov and shoot the man opposite of him in the face.

The bastard won 20 games in a row. And he was supposed to be a prisoner.

"Take a chill pill, Kirill. That fuck cost me as much money as you, and you don't see me shouting! HEY CAP!" The young Asian woman punched her superior officer in the shoulder, with just enough force to almost knock him from the crate that they were all using as seats and a bigger one as the poker table.

"Come on Tommy, tell him that if he doesn't start losing, we'll shoot him. And than throw his body overboard and say he tried to run away. You know him, right?"

"Revy, I said that my grandfather knew him. I never met that man before in my life, though I agree he is very aggrevating in his poker skill." When he was in the SAS, his use of words was a lot harsher and more like Revy's. But now he felt he had to give the good example, in the presence of American gunfighters and Russian mob thugs.

"What's with all this anger towards my person? I'm the prisoner here, you know."

"And ordered by my superior to be silent and in a holding cell. The only reason you were released, is because we needed a fourth man."

When Integra returned from the Imperial War Museum, a lot of things happend. Alucard, Seras and the merc captain, Bernadottte, left on a plane this morning to check out a lead on the Millenium subject. And than Integra ordered the Doctor and his companion to her office, and ordered his removal within five minutes.

According to Walter, Integra informed Yvonne Hartman about him, and asked what should be done with him. Hellsing was a place for the monsters, not the trouble-bringing alien. Hartman had recommended a UNIT facility on Alderney, that had a disused special prison for alien prisoners. And Integra was determined to have him deported there.

Alucard and Walter seemed to know more about the Doctor than the rest of Hellsing, Tommy excluded, but Walter said that he would do whatever his mistress asked. And Alucard? Well, he was Alucard. Never to the point, and always to the random creeping out of people.

But just before he left for Heathrow, in that suit and that aweful tie, he side-glanced to Tommy and the Doctor. And said one thing.

"I will see you around, just not die before I get the chance."

Unless he was having a grudge against Tommy, the Nosferatu wasn't doubting the fact that they would see the Doctor again soon. And how must Tommy feel about that, when he had orders to bring him to a prison where he would likely stay forever. Likely literally, as the Doctor was a immortal, or close to one. Especially with all the stories.

"Doctor, I hope you be smart and not try to escape. It would become...unpleasant. Especially for you."

"My dear Captain Leighbridge-Stewart. I never convine myself to any prison, especially not without chances of escape."

Tommy and the Doctor gazed at each other for a moment, in a imaginative battle of wills. Than the Doctor looked at the cards in his hands, and his smile widend further than before.

"Ah, a full house. Seems I win again."

"AAARGH! I'm gonna kill that fuck!"


	15. Chapter 15: Terror Rising Part 2

**Several Hours Earlier, Torchwood Tower, London**

Reconstruction had been underway for weeks, but still Yvonne Hartman found it irritating to see bullet holes in the walls on several floors. They reminded her of the massive slaughter that took place only a while ago, one that diminished Torchwood's position and elevated that of Hellsing. According to a report, Integra has tripled her forces with foreign mercenaries and had dealings with the equally insane Vatican.

Still, Yvonne would not say there haven't been some interesting, and possibly very postitive things. Like the thing they discovered in Singh's lab, which by every known detecting and sensor instrument known to Man and some others, should not exist. Yet there it was, like something of out a dream.

Or considering the uncomfortable feeling it gives to everyone, a nightmare.

"Dr Singh, any process?"

"Nothing, not even a bloody picture. It's simply not there, but it is." Dr Singh had been fortunate to survive the Valentine Massacre, by the virtue of being a floor above the one where the fighting finally stopped. He was the one who took temporairy control of Torchwood while Yvonne recovered, and was the first to discover It. What it was, or how it could further the goal of a British Empire, remained to be seen.

"Well, it's not like it will be going anywhere soon. We have bigger things to discuss. I assume you are aware that He has appeared."

"Yes, in the Imperial War Museum, wasn't it? Having a recent track of Him is great, but I don't see how we can benefit from it, as he has again disappeared as always."

"That's only what I told you and the staff. He has in fact not left this planet or time period. At this moment, he is in the custody of the Hellsing Organisation."

"Hellsing, you got to be joking...you aren't, are you?"

"I never joke when it concerns the Doctor, Singh."

Singh wanted to respond, but then a group of workers passed by. Even with the extreme security controls on all staff, this is not something a group of maintance technicians should hear. After they passed by, Singh continued in a slightly dampned voice.

"But with Hellsing? How on Earth did they put their hands on him? And how the hell do we get him out of there?"

"We don't need to worry about that. In fact, Lady Integra asked me what to do with him."

"Bring him to Torchwood Tower at once." I hope.

"Actually, I asked her to deliver him to Alderney, to our special alien holding facility."

_Oh dear, she really has gone mad_. Singh had feared that the whole expierence of half your staff being massacred and turned into undead abominations, and Hellsing getting a higher budget, would cause a breakdown of sanity in the Torchwood director's mind. After the conversation would be over, Singh considered to make a call to the leader of the Round Table and inform him of the situation.

"Director...you know that we don't have any facilities on Alderney."

"Oh, but I am quite aware of that." Yvonne smiled as if she was about to reveal a big joke, but Singh held his precaution. Wouldn't be the first person to act normally, and than promote a goldfish to Vice-Consul of Rome.

"So why.."

"Because than we just take the Doctor, make him 'dissappear' for good, and end up with a humiliated Hellsing and a incredible source of information on the Universe."

_So she hasn't lost it. Completly, that is_. But Singh found it a bit reckless, and having a serious flaw.

"But Yvonne, how do you want to accomplish that? First, if Hellsing notices that there is no prison on Alderney, they'll get red lights. And than, how are we supposed to 'take' the Doctor? Most of the staff that was killed was security, and soldiers with the right papers are nearly impossible to replace!"

Torchwood has been given the name of 'The House of Certain Doom' by the military, a title that used to be reserved for Hellsing, and in lesser way, UNIT. And there were was the private sector, who was mostly safe and gave even higher paychecks.

"That's why we will have to resort to people who do not fight for Queen and Country, but for the American God. Money."

Yvonne and Singh entered the lift, and went up to the floor that had Yvonne's personal office. Singh was contemplating her words, but quickly figured out what she meant.

"Him!? You're going to ask him? That's insane!"

"Hush, Singh. He has done many work for the Torchwood Institute with satisfactory results and though I never met the man in person, I have little doubt of him accomplishing this simple task. Their monsters are out of the country to do something in South-America, and by making use of him, we will never be linked to any of this, even if it fails."

"But he's a criminal! A common thief! A murderer, and a outright-"

"Bastard? That pretty much covers me, so thank you for my personality's description, Dr Singh. But you should listen to your superior, I always deliver the goods. For a good price."

Acting like he was a ghost, the man who described himself as a outright bastard had suddenly and without warning appeared behind Singh and Yvonne. With the wry smile of satisfaction as Singh had a expression of shocked startlement. Yvonne had been expecting it, as she casually turned around and faced the man who she would hire for the job of recovering the Doctor.

"Mr Lytton, I presume."

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**_Marie Zeleska_, English Channel**

After two more games, in which the three Hellsing members again lost, Revy's boiling anger errupted in a more subtle and more dangerous way.

"Why don't we keep him."

"Keep him? For what, as a pet or a bloody house elf?"

"You don't get it. You just don't get it Tommy, think about it! This job of ours is only twenty grand a month, only twenty grand! If we keep him, we can sell him to a old enemy of his or a collector of alien stuff. Like that Van Straten creep, he's willing to pay in the eight digits for a real life alien! What would be wrong with collecting a bonus with a business deal?"

"You're being too simple about this." Tommy said with a sigh. Saying that this kind of talk would be insubordination, would be a waste of time.

"You want to be kicked in the face, Tommy?!"

"Not really, no."

"And who is going to negotiate with Mr Van Straten? You? Do you have his personal phone number? And what about a bank account to have the money transferred to? And what would your boss say on this happening on a simple errand boy mission?"

The Doctor wasn't looking away from his cards when he presented Revy with the facts. He should have, as he might have noticed the sheer ammount of anger and irritation that now exploded like a volcano.

"Fine then!" Revy jumped up and violently kicked away the crate that was being used as the poker table. Than she unholstered one of her Berettas and aimed it sideways towards the Doctor.

"I'll just kill his ass and throw him in the fuckin Channel!"

Gunshots followed, and in a haze of movement that lasted a few seconds, several things had occured when it ended. For starters, the Doctor was on the ground, with sizzeling bulletholes on the places his head should have been but fortunately was not. Than, it was Tommy jumping up from his own seat and getting behind Revy, taking her into a armlock that safely had the gun-holding arm pointed to the ceiling while maintaining a choke hold that kept the violent woman in check, if only for a small bit.

"Tommy, I get it."

"Get what Rebecca?"

"I said, I get it. Let go."

"First we are going to get some fresh air. Than we will talk about letting go."

"Asshole, let go!" Revy struggled while Tommy, who with much difficulty pulled her to the door that led to outside. After the two were gone, the Doctor sat up straight, still holding the cards. Together with Kirill, he looked into the direction where the two other players had dissappeared, before returning to the game at hand.

"You know, if that woman wasn't that violent and he wasn't a second Brig, I'd say those two liked each other."

"Two-Hands? With him? Your funny man, Doctor."

"Part of my charm and strategy to survive even the most dire of situations, Lieutenant. I do not rely on my poker skills, though they come in quite handy when things get boring."

"Boring. You call this boring?"

"My dear fellow, if you seen what I've seen, you would know what the true definition of boredom would be."

Outside on the deck of the cargo ship, Tommy made his way through the last door that seperated them from the open air, while keeping a struggling Revy in check. After reaching said open air, Tommy let go off Revy who staggered forward, while violently smacking away one of Tommy's arms who wasn't quick enough to move away.

She held onto the railing with both hands, and was visibly shaking with anger. Back in the time he was with the SAS, Tommy would have solved the situation with a good pummeling. But his English heritage spoke strongly against hitting a woman. Not that he expected it would have more result than getting her more angry or worse, himself getting beaten up. So he tried the only way he could think of, even if it was insane. And that was to talk to ease the fifth most dangerous woman on the Western hemisphere.

"Rebecca, do you wish to talk about it?"

"Talk about fuckin what?" Revy still had her back turned to Tommy, who began to lean against the bulkhead behind him.

"Shooting people isn't normal behaviour, not when he is just beating you at poker. So either you are really bad at losing, or there is some heavy emotional problem that will possibly end with me shooting you to protect the rest. And I prefer things not to come to that."

Revy's inner rage began to lessen, at least to a point that her body stopped trembling. But she didn't said a word, still not willing to talk about it.

"Reb-" Tommy's attempt to continue to discuss what was Revy's problem, was interrupted by the Marie Zeleska's fog horn.

Tommy turned to the direction the Marie was heading, and in the distance the island of Alderney was beginning to be more than a faint spot on the horizon. But it wasn't the sighting of the island that sounded the fog horn. It was the massive bank of fog, that swept over the small island and covered it in a grey thick cloud that could not be pierced by eyes. It was true English fog, unlike any fog or mist in the world and it was dense enough to cut chunks of it.

"We should prepare for disembarking and deliver the prisoner. Rebecca, I think it's best you stay here and watch the ship. Alright?"

Revy didn't respond, but she didn't say no either. Tommy hoped that she would realize that it is pointless to get angry at someone who was going to be locked up for a very long time, knowing both Torchwood and the Doctor. He left her standing on the deck, and focused his attention at the task at hand. Tommy passed the ship's armoury, and stopped for a moment, before continueing down to the hold. His sidearm, a Swedish SIG pistol, would be enough for a mission that only required delivering a unarmed prisoner on own soil to a 'allied' prison facility.

Hardly the task that would require heavy weaponry.

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**Hellsing Manor**

In the grand entrance hall of the manor Rose Tyler, nearly a day after she was taken captive by the Hellsing organisation along with the Doctor, was standing near the doors. Worried about the fate of the Doctor, worried that she would be seperated from the Doctor, and worried at seeing her mum again. Rose was allowed to keep the sack of dirty laundry, but she doubted it will distract her mom Jackie from the fact that the Doctor has been arrested and she nearly aswell.

She would have, if the Doctor had not claimed that she was a innocent bystander who was seduced by a lifetime of adventures and interesting mystery. Before Integra would have him shot on sight for those remarks, the officer who captured them explained that the Doctor meant that he had taken her away, and there was little she could have done about it.

It wasn't the truth, but better than a trip to Alderney.

"You alright, Miss Tyler?"

The only person who treated her as a human being and not as a detainee or undesirable presence, was the manor's butler, a old friendly man named Walter. Though he was a bit eccentric, Rose was used to that trait after her time with the Doctor.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a bit unsettling in the last hours, like my life is again totally turned upside. But this time, it's back to 'normal', and I'm not sure if I am going to like that."

The old butler smiled, as a jovial grandfather. It pleased him that there were still young people with a lust for adventure, even with the gluttonous and sloth-some generation that was made lazy by half a era of peace and modern comforts.

"Oh, I shouldn't worry Miss Tyler. This world itself is filled with...interesting things, so you forget things ever be 'normal'. And while I know the Doctor from a brief encounter from a long, long time ago, I know enough about him that there is not a prison in the world or the universe capable of holding him."

Rose smirked a bit, and than heard the sound of a car claxon from outside. The car that was sent to pick her up and bring her to London to her residence, had arrived.

Sir Integra had spoken against bringing Rose home in her personal automobile, a reason that lay in the belief of there still being a difference in class, and not suffering the indignity of being seen near a housing estate. The 'company' car was still coming back from Southampthon after delivering Revy, the Doctor, Tommy and Lieutenant Kirill to the port where the Marie Zeleska was docked. And taking one of the APC's into London would be a option if the Powell Estate had been overrun by vampires.

So in return of bringing them the Doctor, Integra demanded that Torchwood would pick up Rose Tyler and bring her home.

"Well, thanks for not shooting us on sight. And I think it's best we won't meet again. But thanks anyway, Walter."

"Farewell, Miss Tyler. Until we meet again."

Picking up the duffelbag filled with used shirts and trousers, Rose took a final glance at the interior of the manor and than left through the door, that closed with a omninous shattering sound. On the drive lane stood a brand new BMW, that was in a odd context with the Victorian manor.

The driver had exited the car and was opening the back boot, for Rose's duffelbag. The man looked very common, a person who you would lose in a crowd of people, but had a genuine friendly smile. That Torchwood must be a truelly aweful place, if coming here would inspire happiness. The driver took the duffelbag from Rose's hands and placed it in the boot and than closed it. Than he opened the door for Rose, who found the politeness and manners rather refreshing after witnessing that of the Hellsing organisation.

"You done this before, driving people around?"

"Indeed miss, many times. Would you care to enter the vehicle, I'm a bit short on time and don't want to spend any significant ammount of that at this place."

"Ah, trust me. It's worse on the inside." As Rose got in the BMW, the driver was about to close the door when the doors of the manor opened, and Rose expected Walter to come out and give her something she had forgotten, like her telephone or a cup of tea.

But instead, it was a very tall blonde woman in a black business suit who came with a steady and determined pace to the car. She had burn marks covering the right side of her face, that were very distinct and made Rose wonder why that woman never took plastic surgery or something of a mask to cover it.

"Hello there. I just heard from Walter you were going to London." With casual swagger, the woman leaned against the BMW and faced the driver and Rose.

"Uh, yes. I was taking this lady here to her adress in London. without any problems."

"Good. Than I will come with you. It's been a childhood wish to see some of London, the Moscow of the West."

"B-but Madam, I only came here to pick up this woman and.."

"And so you shall. You will just take along two women instead of one. No problem with that, I'm sure."

The driver wanted to protest, but this was not the place to have a discussion, and the tall woman seemed rather determined and a bit scary. And she already took the seat next to Rose, so the driver shrugged his shoulders and got into the car. Than the BMW left the manor's terrain and drove off towards England's capital.

Rose was spending her time, looking with curosity and a bit of worry, at the woman who just introduced herself as Balalaika, a foreign security specialist at Hellsing who was recently hired.

Balalaika herself spent her time ignoring the stare of Rose, and lit a cigar without asking the driver if he allowed smoking in the car.

As for the driver, he wondered how the hell he could solve this new mess. But after considering several factors and compairing them with possible alternatives, he decided that the original plan could still be done, though with some slight alterations. And even still, he could have improvised something. Like his collagues did.

The BMW drove past a police car, who had parked itself besides the road near the burning wreckage of another BMW who had apparently driven itself off the road and also exploded for no apparent reason. The driver took a quick side glance before returning his attention to the road, and Balalaika kept staring into nothingness and seemed lost in her own thoughts. Only Rose paid attention, and felt a bit of curiosity to what happend before the BMW removed itself from the scene and faded in the distance.

The police constables at the scene called the fire department and a paramedic, though it was clear that any help was far too late for the poor fried soul behind the wheel. It not until the fire was extinquished and the body removed, that they would notice that the car's number plates were not destroyed by fire, but in fact missing entirely. And when the coroner inspects the body to determine the obvious cause of death, he would discover that it had not been the fire, but a hole caused by a 9mm round in the left side of the man's skull.

When they searched through the scorched remains of his wallet, they found little in terms of idenfication. The only significant lead that they could find was a half-molten plastic card that had only one readable word.

_Torchwood_

What ever the hell that may be.


	16. Chapter 16: Terror Rising Part 3

**Thanks for the positive comments, all(but one):)**

**DG Friendly, I am posting the chapters that I wrote so far, with hoping that more critism and comments will allow me to continue writing. I have enough material for a new chapter, but prefer to wait until I have enough since my drive to write has lessend somewhat and don't want to run out inmediatly if I were to continue the story.**

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**Alderney Port**

Even though the mist was incredibly thick and dense, limiting eyesight to only 50 metres, the crew of the Marie Zeleska managed to safely dock itself alongside the small and only pier that the island had to offer. A accomplishment which was further strengthed by the fact that most of the crew were ex-paratroopers, not sailors. Still, they were decent at the whole sailoring business.

Loading a jeep of 2 tons proved to more difficult, as the Russian-made GAZ 4x4 made a rather uncomfortable impact against the ship's hull as it was lowered down onto the pier. Any lesser car that wasn't constructed with Soviet stubborness, would have been ready for the scrapyard. It still didn't comfort the captain of the ship at the damage of the hull paint. It did increase the speed with wich the GAZ was finally placed on the pier and the passengers went on their way to avoid the captain's anger.

The Doctor looked backwards to the vanishing ship in the fog and whistled.

"My, that man has some serious affection for his ship."

"Captain Barbarossa's ship is like son to him. Been on it for twenty years." Lt Kirill gave the reply, while his cheeks were still a bit red from the massive barrage of Russian cursewords that he didn't hear before in his childhood or even in the VDV.

"Barbarossa? As in..."

"Yes. Captain does not wish to discuss his mother's decisions upon his birth."

The GAZ drove onto the nearest, local and only town of the island, St Anne. When Torchwood told them to bring the Doctor to Alderney, they failed to mention what spot exactly. They expected someone to be at the port, but nobody was there. So they were heading towards the town to find their contact or someone who would know where they should be going.

"If we don't find somebody there who has a bloody clue, we'll scour the island until we have had enough and shove the Doctor into the nearest hole we can find and be back home in time for tea."

"On one side I would like to see my freedom returned, but on the other I wouldn't want to see you people missing a cup of tea. You'd be amazed just how many lives were saved by just one cup."

It became silent in the jeep, as nobody expect the Doctor himself understood the reference.

The vehicle entered the town, that was hidden within the fog, and only the dim light coming from the street lanterns were preventing Tommy from driving into a building that didn't have the proper facilities to house a jeep. But as the lights prevented them from causing a accident, it made the task of a villager who was posted as a outlook to anything suscipious a lot easyier with more to go on than just the sound of the engine.

The outlook waited until the jeep had went past, and than reached for the cellular on the table next to him and dialed a number, the only one on it as it was given him just a few hours earlier. The phone rang once, twice, thrice before somebody finally got bored of the ringtune and answered.

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**Fort Tourgis**

"Yes..?"

"_Father, men just went into the village! They're in a jeep, but I don't recognize it and it doesn't have any signs!_"

"Soldiers?"

"_I...I think so yes, most of them were wearing green, I think._"

"Most of them? Elaborate."

"_Well, there was one, or I at least I think there was one, who was wearing a business suit, black or dark blue._"

The priest grinned, revealing a pair of unnaturally long fangs that were covered in blood. Just like the rest of his teeth, mouth and face. His polished black shoes had a decent splatter of the crimson liquid aswell, but that was due to the violent way the dead and drained UNIT soldier was dropped onto the floor, rather than having no dinner manners.

"Well George, you know what I said about anyone who isn't one of the Chosen. Kill them."

"_Y-yes Father, inmediatly!_"

The connection was broken, and Vereker let out a small chuckle. The peasants did not cease to amuse him, as they just have been ordered to attack soldiers of unknown quality and intention, and yet didn't give a single sign of protest. They really believed all the bullshit he had been feeding them the last few weeks.

But for all their faith, it wouldn't help them a inch against the battle-hardened soldiers of Hellsing, who while they were just still pathetic weak humans, were expierenced in dealing with foes superior to them. And Vereker didn't care if the villagers or the soldiers were the ones who would win the upcoming battle. All that mattered, were the Two. And one of them just arrived on the island, just as planned.

And the chuckle began to shift into a loud laughter, that grew more insane and high-pitched with the second until the blood-stained catatombs of the UNIT that was now filled with the dead and despair, echoed the priest's mad expression of humour.

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**St Anne, Alderney**

The GAZ drove further into the village, until it reached the town's square. Thus far, they failed to see any living soul around, but it was not that suprising with the density of the fog that would make going out for a stroll not a comfortable choice. And still no sign of the prison staff that would be waiting for them. Tommy placed the vehicle on handbrake and turned to the other occupants.

"Alright gentlemen. We've not seen any personnel here or at the docks. So we have three options. One, we continue our search across the island and scour every ruin in the fog. Second, we hassle some old lady into telling us the secret location of a prison that's meant for extraterrestials. Three, we return to the ship and back to England, and tell Sir Integra to thank Director Hartman for waisting our time."

"Or, we could just visit that pub over there and look where any sane person would be at this time and weather."

The heads of the other occupants slowly turned to the direction the Doctor was pointing at, and to their annoyance there was indeed a pub where light and music was coming from. Tommy turned back to the Doctor, and prevented himself from shouting that the Doctor should stop being such a smartarse.

"Alright gentlemen, you heard the Doctor's advice. But no drinks, at least none that I will pay for."

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**London**

After thirty minutes of driving, the car had reached the inner parts of the capital and skillfully avoided all the traffic. Though Rose had been a inhabitant of London for her entire life, she was still impressed by the scenic tour that the driver of the BMW took to their final destintation. She realized that even with the things she seen across time and space, her own hometown could not stop to amaze her.

"London is smaller than I imagined. But still impressive."

The words alerted Rose to the presence of the woman next to her, who had been silent the entire time and slowly faded out of her mind. The woman took the occasional glance to the left or to the right, but didn't really seem enthuastic for someone who always wanted to visit London. Instead, Balalaika kept staring forward, into a void. Rose considered speaking to her, but what should she say? How the weather was in Russia, or if her scars prevented her from putting on mascara?

Than Rose just decided to not press the matter and return to look at the scenics before she arrived at the Estates where her mother lived. And than she realized it. The BMW was not driving towards the Estate that she specified, they were in fact moving away to the industrial areas. She leaned over to the driver.

"Hello, Excuse but we are headin' the wrong way."

"Really. I wouldn't have guessed." The driver's voice was polite, but it sounded like it was meant sarcastic.

"Well, would you mind start going the right way than?"

"I'm sorry but I won't. So please shut the hell up."

The BMW took a hard turn left and drove into a empty sidestreet, having arrived at a area that contained several disused warehouses that were planned for demolition by the city, and unlikely to be visited except for the homeless and kids looking for adventure. That made it a good place for doing something you didn't want other people to hear or see, especially the police.

"What's the meaning of this? Where are you taking us!" Rose grew worried, especially with the Doctor so far away without being near the TARDIS. If the driver has ill intentions and it was likely he has, it would be unlikely for the Doctor to come in and save her as he done so many times before, even if he made impossible escapes his trademark technique. Besides her, Balalaika wasn't even responding to the strange turn of events, but instead was paying more attention to the surroundings than she did when there was something nice to look at instead of rundown storage buildings.

The BMW came to an abrupt stop, and the driver moved with a liquid-like speed, removing his hand from the steering wheel to inside his suit and pulling it back and holding a black pistol that was made in Germany and aimed it at the passengers in the back. He first leveled it at Balalaika, who was still not looking like she understood the situation she was in and gave the driver a uninterested glance with the burning cigar still wedged in her mouth. The driver suspected her to be life-tired or something similair, which wouldn't be a problem in a few minutes, but decided that he should pay close attention to her until that time.

"You scream or try anything, you will be dead in a second. Understood?" The man saw Balalaika nodding with the dim glance of apathy, and moved his gun to aim it at Rose and restate his threat.

Than something happend that in his long years of combat and death, he never thought or imagined would happen. Somebody suprised him. A woman. With a cigar. And the fact that it was a lite one, came clear when it burned against the palm of his hand. Most people would have dropped the gun, but the driver was too much of a professional to let go. But Balalaika herself was enough of a professional to take advantage of the suprise and plant her elbow into the driver's face. The force of the blow was threw the driver backwards, through the cardoor that was already unlocked to provide for a quick exit.

Still holding onto the pistol, the driver landed on his back, but made a skilled headroll backwards. Upon standing on his feet again in a kneeling position, he raised the gun with the intent to kill shoot the woman who just putted out her cigar in his palm and almost broke his nose. Than the door of the passengers in the back, opened with a speed that took him by suprise and slammed the pistol away from his hand, after firing a stray shot that went into a piled garbage bin. The weapon slided away across the street and the driver dove after it, nearly catching when a incredibly sharp high heel came down and impaled the hand was trying to grasp the gun and happend to be the one not burned by a cigar. The high-heel removed it from the driver's hand, and he pulled it back while it began to cover itself in blood.

The driver couldn't believe the pain he was in, no living man had ever managed to hurt him as badly as this. But this was no man, this was something far worse. When he finally came of the initial tidal waves of pain, the driver looked up and expected to be shot in the head, like he would have done to a opponent in the same situation as he was in right now.

Instead, the woman who injured him so badly, was looking down at him with a expression of rejoycement and satisfaction while putting the gun away safely behind her back in her belt. The driver recognized the look, and cursed himself for not realizing it earlier. This was a follower of heavy combat, a war junkie. People like this were made in the fires of battle, and battle was the only place where they could feel alive. And it was the only place they would die. Confidence grewing again, as such people were reckless beyond safety, the driver slipped out a smirk.

And slipped out a knife from his sleeve, that he gripped and than lunged towards Balalaika, who's amusement began to grow even larger at this attack. The first jab was avoided, as the attacker needed to cross too much space to make it hit, but the second one managed to make a cut on Balalaika's shoulder, drawing blood. The woman did a impressive series of dodges, lightning-fast counterattacks and false moves, but reality was still that she was going to lose against someone with a melee-specialized weapon. So when the driver made a stab to the left, she jumped to the right and ripped off the radio antenne of the BMW.

"Heh, what you gonna do with that, love? Get the Classic Channel and hope for Mozart's Requiem to play?"

She responded by using the antenne as a rapier, and than proceed to smack the driver across the face with a swift stroke, a proof of the range advantage that she now possesed. The driver, angered, bleeding and convinced that it would do her no good it would still do no good against a man with a knife, charged forward with the knife to end this unwanted turn of events, permanently. It did, though not in the way he expected it to end.

Within five seconds, his nose, left arm and knee joint, were shattered. The knife fell to the street with a clang, and seconds later followed the body of the driver, who was unable to even utter a clear word through a ocean of paralyzing pain and confusion. Than, faintly through the booming sound that filled his ears, he heard clapping.

"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I didn't have this much effort to stay alive in years. Apart from a lucky Mudjadhien with a RPG, you've been the closest man to kill me. But even though I respect your skill and tenacity, I will ask some questions and I will kill you at the slighest sign of not telling the truth or being stupid. Da?"

The driver did not give a disagreeing shake or even a agreeing nod, so Balalaika left him on the ground and turned back to the BMW. Behind one of the windows, was a open-jawed Rose Tyler who was shocked by both the brutality and the speed in which the entire ordeal had taken place. Between the driver pulling a gun and him now laying on the street with a month's worth in the hospital, only 40 seconds had past.

"Hey you there. You alright?" Balalaika wouldn't find it a victory if the driver still managed to fire a round and kill the woman that she assigned herself to protect.

Rose Tyler was not responsive at first, but than winked her eyes a few times and came back to reality.

"Y-Yes, I think. Yeah..at least better than that-WATCH OUT BEHIND YOU!"

If it was superhuman endurance or plain human stubborness, the driver managed to stand up in less than a second, with the knife he previously dropped. About to stab a armed woman in the back, he yelled as he raised the knife for a downward strike into her neck.

"Gucci is going to kill me." Balalaika sighed. And in a fraction of a second her right leg moved backwards in a upward direction, and stuck her right high heel into the driver's throat with a disgusting wet sound.

Rose looked away instantly, while Balalaika kept looking to her if she was alright, while the driver had a woman's high heel of Gucci expensiveness rammed into his throat.

"First time in my life that I was glad with those wretched things." Balalaika twisted the heel with a quick leg thrust and ended up making the hole in the driver's throat bigger, and also snapping the heel off her Gucci and make the man drop to the ground as he was no longer suspended, and now clearly dead.

Having no more use of the shoe, Balalaika took it off, aswell as the other to avoid a unbalanced walk. She didn't mind walking on the asphalt, it in fact reminded her of when she was little and life seemed to be so full of wonder and promises...

But than she snapped her mind back to the present, and noticed that Rose had gone incredibly pale, and was nearing the point of vomiting. Happens to everyone the first time, it's because of the blood pouring out of grotsque wounds. Little Balalaika knew that Rose already saw much death and devastation, but never as brutal nor as quick and unexpected. Like the scenery of her own city still impresses her after seeing the wonders of the universe, the horror of what one human can do to another is as terrifying as the most sadistic Dalek.

Balalaika didn't know well what to do, as psychology wasn't included in her training and rookies on the battlefield either adapted or went crazy. Not to mention the paperwork that will likely follow this unusual turn of events.

Suddenly she heard the screeching of tires, and for a moment assumed it was the local police to investigate the gunshot, as shootouts weren't common in England. But than again, there were no sirenes. Balalaika hurried back to the BMW and sat down in the seat of the now deceased driver. And a moment not too soon.

Around the corner, nearly slipping in haste, came two black SUV's. They were converted large, black Range Rovers with tinted windows and blue lights running along the A-frames. And with British military registration plates. Balalaika wondered who on Earth would use such obvious attention-drawing vehicles, but didn't wonder on what their intentions were.

She turned to Rose, who was beginning to come over the initial shock and notice that the threat was still not over.

"Let's see how shit German cars really are, da?"

The BMW almost jump-started into the air when Balalaika rammed her foot down the pedal and released the handbrake. The car reached a terrifying acceleration in just twenty metres, but the SUV's following it weren't afraid of a little speed themselves and gave chase.

"You! Sit in the front and read map!"

"Map? What map?!" Rose shouted when she climbed from the back over onto the forward passenger seat.

"First trip to London, remember? I need the scenic tour to make this more enjoyable."

Balalaika grinned, and Rose wondered if jumping out of the car right now as it was doing 80 kilometres inside a cityzone, would be more safe than riding alongside this woman who was more scary than a Cyberman with ambition. Especially since the BMW was leaving the industrial area, and heading straight into town.

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**Unregistered Black Hawk, Above the English Channel**

Flying low to avoid being picked up by any civillian radar, and granted clearance by the military, the Black Hawk was almost invisible with it's dark grey colouring. It was also not registered, and not to be found in any database to provide identification.

Those piloting it were men who were good at what they do, but mostly hired because of the fact that they didn't ask questions and were reliable to keep their mouths shut.

In the back, were six men, dressed in urban camo that was also used by Torchwood's security force. With the exception that these men were wearing black paintball masks to obscure their face, and Fritz helmets covered in the same urban camo pattern. They were armed with G36C's, also the standard weapon of Torchwood's military force.

One of them stood up and gestured the rest to look at him and listen to what he has to say.

"Alright gents, you seen it before. We land on Alderney in twenty minutes, locate and snatch the one I designated on the pictures, and return ASAP to the mainland to deliver our package. The other half of the money promised will than be delivered on your bank accounts, but only we get the man we're looking for. Understood?"

The men nodded slighlty, a movement hardly noticable in a flying Black Hawk.

"UNDERSTOOD!?"

"YES SIR!"

"Good. I don't want anyone fuck things up. I've had the misfortune to losing my clients on my last job, and I want to get paid this time. Mr Lytton will not die a poor man! I want my pockets to be flooding with gold when I perish, gentlemen!"


	17. Chapter 17: City of God

**DG Friendly, not everyone read it on Spacebattles so please refrain from spoilers to the remaining chapters. **

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**Rio de Janeiro**

Explosions in the distance. Screaming and shouting filling the air, mostly screaming. A child without a mother crying. Panicked civillians trying to find safety. Men in uniforms and with weapons, confused and scared. A lone police officer, shuffling around in a trance, not noticing the bloody stump that used to be his right arm and the bloody trail he was leaving behind on the streets.

If it wasn't for the titan that looked upon a mountain down to the city, Pip would think he was back in Africa. Or some city in the Middle-East that decided that hatred was better than harmony. Not that Pip cared, he made a living out of it.

But usually a war was conducted between two or more parties. Not between two men. If you could call them that.

When Pip noticed the news broadcast during his vivid search for a South-American TV channel that contained porn, he got dressed and went to the scene of carnage. And after making a call to the homebase, on their costs, he was given a order to extend the wrath of Hellsing against the human puppets of whomever was behind all this.

First, he looked and found a alone trooper with face-covering gasmask, whom he approached, and after offering him a cigarette to calm his nerves, punched him out with a knuckle duster hidden behind Pip's back. Than he hid the body, and took his uniform. In his new appearance, Pip made a quick detour to one of the GATE vans, and took out some equipment that would be useful for later. And than after asking directions, he found what he was looking for.

Pip entered the tent that was reported to be the HQ of the people who ordered the assault against the hotel. Inside were two men in civillian dress, likely goverment officials. Besides them were several soldiers operating the radios or any other senseless stuff that soldiers did, dressed in tan-coloured BDU's with an very unusual insignia.

A globe of the Earth, with wings flanking it on both sides. And some sort of abbreviation.

_U.N.I.T._

Pip wondered what that meant. This wasn't likely something the UN would send soldiers for. Maybe it was some new Special Forces group that didn't consider it to be ripping off a famous international organisation.

But than one of the officials finally noticed Pip standing in the entrance, and the mercenary removed the line of thought from his mind. Time to get to work. And so Pip raised the silenced pistol that he was holding behind his back, and shot the first official between his eyes. And than continued with the rest, who barely had a chance to defend themselves.


	18. Chapter 18: Terror Beginning Part 1

**St Anne, Alderney**

The GAZ was parked in front of the tavern, and the Doctor, Tommy, Kirill and one of the two 'sailors' exited the vehicle, leaving the other sailor to keep the engine running while they asked for directions. They didn't plan to wait long, or even for a drink.

Entering the comfortably warm pub, Tommy felt his chilled bones come alive again and reconsidered his intitial proposal and instead stay a little longer. There were some people in the pub, but it wasn't a busy night, even for a town this size.

"G'day to your sires, awefully chill outside I reckon." A eldery man, and likely the owner from the pub stepped forward to meet them.

"You all be from the military than, I suppose?"

"Except for me, semi-pacifist, though with occasional slips of genocide." The Doctor stuck out his hand, before Tommy quickly brought it down again.

"Yes, on official business. We are searching for officers of a military unit stationed on the island, they may have identified themselves as part of a United Nations special taskforce.."

"Har, good sir, we'd have visits from the French, Dutch, Germans and other folk, but we'd never had any of the United Nations on this island here. Nor any visit took longer than a day or two, but never any permanent residence apart from those Jerries sixty years back."

The landlord nodded and returned to his spot behind the bar, leaving the four men standing by themselves. Lieutenant Kirill and the sailor did not face Tommy and inspected the nooks and corners of the establishment. Tommy himself turned to the Doctor, and raised a warning finger, and a finger of his hand on his sidearm. The Doctor shrugged, while letting out a small smirk.

"It seems we've reached a dead end. Let's hurry back to the ship and find a way to explain to Sir Integra."

"Captain?"

"...Yes, Doctor? And before you speak, I warn you that it has to be good. You know the consequences if it isn't."

"Oh, far too well. But I was wondering about those landlord's claim of not being any UNIT on this island. I highly doubt that he was telling the truth."

"And why is that, Doctor?"

"Because if he's never seen UNIT before, than why does he have one of their flag banners hanging on the wall? Of course, it could be the result of a really heavy night of drinking as I discovered a traffic cone on the Tardis once, when it was three million lightyears away from Earth."

Tommy and the two other soldiers of Hellsing turned to the wall and saw there a small blue flag hanging on display, encased in glass even, with on it the traditional trademark symbol of a grid-globe that was flanked by two wings and beneath it written the letters U.N.I.T. and a handwritten part that said 'For the generous and hospitable people of Alderney, from the grateful United Nations Intelligence Taskforce'. Too bad the little splatter of blood at the top of it was obscuring some of the words.

"Excuse me landlord, but would you mind explaning that thing there on the wall?"

Tommy turned to the landlord, who's friendly smile had gone and have the fanatic glint of a madman replace it. And from below the bar, came the double barrels of a old hunting rifle. And it was being aimed straight at the four men.

"GUN!"

Tommy grasped for the Doctor's shoulder and than dragged him downwards while moving to the right while reaching for his sidearm, as Kirill and the sailor moved to the left while retrieving their weapons from their slunged positions. This tactic, a instinctive and impulsive move, was the result of training and combat expierence and could be applied from indoor shootings to World War Three battlefields.

And it was succesful as the landlord had squeezed the trigger before taking proper aim, and the buckshot went harmlessly in the tiled floor just where the Doctor had been standing, tearing some of the tiles apart. The landlord uttered some primal roar, and clapped the barrels open to reload, and than was put down by the combined firepower of one Skorpion, a AK-74 without stock, and a P226 Sig Sauer. The landlord stumbled backwards as most people did not enjoy getting ridled with bullets, and the drink cabinet behind was blown to glass shards and spilled alcholic liquids. Alcohol tended to be inflammable, so when the old man fell against his former drink cabinet, a spark of a bullet bouncing off on something solid metal, it caused the liquid to ignite. And thus the landlord was both doing a real-life renactment of Sonny's death in The Godfather, while taking the title Man On Fire literal.

Tommy, Kirill and the sailor stopped after the landlord went down in a blaze, and than their senses came online again and wondered what the hell just happend. But the Doctor went over to the bar, and watched the body of the landlord as it was being consumed by alcholic flames.

"That was overly excessive, even for you Hellsing folk."

"I'm sorry for the theatrics Doctor, but that man should not have picked up a weapon and fire at armed personnell with a license to kill, undead or living."

"License to kill doesn't mean you need to kill everything as the accompying rule." The Doctor turned away from the sight that would have been a Pagan burial in other conditions, and suddenly raised a finger towards the three soldiers.

"Look out behind you!"

Kirill and Tommy swung around in the assumption that the Doctor was meaning one of them, but the sailor had been too slow to acknowledge the Doctor's warning. His eyes went suddenly wide, and three spikes that belong to a sharp pitchfork, errupted from his chest. The sailor gazed at the suprising and shocking things that were sticking out of his chest and saw how the fabric around it was beginning to run red with blood. Than a second weapon striked him in the neck, a blunt axe this time that still managed to cut in deep, but failed to take the sailor's head entirely. He than dropped to the floor, as every man had his limit.

Revealing that behind him stood two men, somewhere in their fifties. Men who, upon the group's entrance into the pub, had been playing a intense game of chess. It wasn't as intense as it seemed, as they wouldn't have stood up from their places and grabbed tools from beneath their table, to kill a Russian paratrooper-sailor. In the end they also weren't good at chess, as they would have realized that in their attempt to remove a pawn, they lost the game.

"Bastards!" Kirill shouted as he mowed them down with the rest of the Skorpion's ammunition clip. He dropped the clip to insert a new one and shoot their bodies some more in revenge for the fallen comrade, but than a incredible painful sting sensation pierced into the arm holding the new .32 ACP magazine and made the lieutenant drop it. From the other side of the pub where the traditional dartboard was hung on the wall, a young man was holding a handful of darts and against logic, was throwing them at the people holding guns. Another person who didn't understood the playing rules, as Tommy pointed out to him when he shot the dart player through the head with blood and some brain matter ending up on the dartboard.

"We're leaving!" Tommy grabbed the Doctor by the arm and made for the entrance of the pub, while Kirill followed and removed the dart from his arm, along with cursing heavily in Russian.

Outside, the soldier left behind in the GAZ jeep was listening to a cassete recording of Tatou when he heard the gunfire, and started the engines as precaution. When the gunfire died down and three familair shapes ran out, the soldier disenaged the hand brake and set it in forward to ride towards them. Tommy, Kirill and the Doctor were running rapidly at the oncoming jeep, when suddenly a crackle of a gunshot echoed through the air, and the forward window of the GAZ was suddenly covered in blood. And than the car even drove faster, directly towards the three men who jumped out of the way just in time, before the car rammed itself into the pub.

Now the three men lay on the town square, confused and being unable with the acceleration that the situation was using to turn from 'normal' to plain insane chaos. But as they were trying to recompile themselves, shots were being fired at them from the upper floor windows of the houses that surrounded the square. As bullets ripped into the stones around them, Tommy shook off the to get up and again pull the Doctor along while Kirill was getting up.

"Back to the pub! Get inside!"

As bullets whizzed by, the three managed to get back inside the tavern they just left, without getting hit. This due to bad markmanship on the enemy's behalf, reduced vision on the fog's behalf, and luck on the Lady Fortuna's behalf. They inmediatly dove for cover behind a pool table that Tommy and Kirill flipped onto it's side as a temporairy but still fragile shield.

"I thought this was fuckin civillized country!"

"It's usually is, so this just as suprising to me as it is to you. Maybe they got the wrong idea when they saw that new movie Hot Fuzz..or something or someone is controlling them into doing this."

"Or they could have just decided to kill every stranger when they had their morning breakfast, Doctor. Now shut and try to use some of that famed wit and intellect and get us out of here!"

"For your information, I don't do magic. I can't flip out solutions on a whim, even if my reputation has told you otherwise."

Before a verbal battle broke out between the two, bullets were fired into the pub with little accuracy, but still enough to make a end to the conversation and have the men inside to keep their heads down.

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**_Marie Zeleska_, Alderney Port**

After the words and the feeling that went into her stomach like a burning knife, Revy resided to laying on the deck outside in the cold, listening to the sea and nature, and cursing the fact that she didn't brought her walkman with her. And there was nothing to look at, because of the dense fog. Not even a irritating yet fun to annoy stiff-upper lip Brit officer who desperatedly needed to live more. Almost not unlike a certain Japanese businessman who missed the point so badly at times that even his good intentions sometimes failed. He was in fact the real reason why she left Roanapur with Alucard, as danger could be found anywhere.

But now Revy wondered if she didn't trade the one oblivious jerk for another, and also wondered if this would be the same like at 'home', she'd rather want the warm climate of Roanapur back as the British dreaded weather wasn't a reason to stay.

Than she heard it, or rather felt it. The drums of war, in this case the faint sounds of gunfire from far away. It was irratic, with short bursts and single shots, but it was definately sounds of battle. And that was the other real reason she came to England, for the promise of merciless combat.

Revy jumped up from the deck and headed down below, to the crew quarters where they mostly gathered. And she was right, as the entire crew with the exception of Captain Barbarossa who stayed on his post on the bridge, was having a game of poker for themselves. They didn't react on Revy's rapid entry, as they were used to the young woman's implusiveness.

"Hey! Put the cards down and unload some wheels, shit is going down on the island and I don't want to be late for the party!"

The Russians turned to the visitor, gazed at her for a moment, before returning their attention back at the cards in their hands. Something inside Revy exploded, and a urge to take out her Cutlass and revenge the display of disobiedence, was suppresed by the fact that there were a lot more Russians than there was Revy, and they also were all packing heavier tools of retribution. So sucking up a major insult on her person, in her mind, she repeated the request with held back anger in her voice.

"Fellas, I need a transport and some of you to come along. The others are up shit creek and we're the only ones to bring them a paddle."

The Russians sighed almost collectively, and after looking to another, one of them decided to be the brave and face Revy and explain why they would not respond to her requests. It was Corporal Rolstev, one of the few NCO's in Hotel Moscow who's English was more advanced than 'Yes','No' and 'Fuck you, Dogface'.

"Miss, as long we do not hear order from our superiors, we do not take order from civillian. Only Kirill, the Englishman and Captain Barbarossa can give us orders. And this is fuckin' Mary Poppins-Land. I doubt there is threat in English elders, unless it is with their disgusting food."

There was some chuckle from the Russians who understood it. Revy herself was not as pleased and the urge to survive was being beaten down by the urge to kill them all. But than, as the result of a sudden brainstorm inside her mind to prevent her from doing something stupid, she left the room and ran away to the lower decks.

The Russians watched her leave, shrugged and than continued their game. After some losses and wins, and one discovery of cheating, the Russians spent nearly ten minutes in peace and quiet when suddenly the entire ship shook like a blender from some heavy impact and causing the men to fall over each other. They tried to stand up, but yet another impact made them lose footing and hit the deck once more. The men once again scrambled on their feet and headed for the door. Running through the empty corridors, the newest impact drove some of them into bulkheads and open doors, causing scratches and bruises.

"We're being attacked!"

"By who! And where is explosion!?"

The Russians reached the upper deck, but discovered no fire, no smoke and not a ship about to sink. What they did see was the main cargo hold, where all the supplies, weapons and vehicles were stored, being open and the crane turned to hang over the port side of the ship. And behind the crane's controls..

"Two-Hands! What the fuck are you doing!?"

No response came, only yet another bolt-shattering impact that almost kicked the deck from beneath their feet. Some of the Russians ran over to the side to see what the woman doing, and their heart stopped beating for a second at the sight of it.

Hanging at the end of the cable, was the workhorse of the Russian military and a pest to the Afghan opponents during the Soviet invasion of their country. The BTR-80 Armoured Personnel Carrier, armed with two heavy machineguns and perfect for rapid assault insertions into hostile territory.

The problem was, it was not designed to be picked up by a crane, swung across the side and than lowered down onto a small dock. Not without causing damage to the ship it's on. And what's what happend, with numerous large dents on both the armoured vehicle and the ship, making the GAZ drop-off look like a job of artistic perfection. And make Captain Barbarossa's earlier outburst, seem like a friendly compliment. Naturally the Russians couldn't sit by and watch, so some of them though with caution because of the infamous tenacity that their target possed, ran over to the crane controls to stop Revy.

The former New York hoodlum jumped over the controls, and than over the side of the ship. Stopping her descent into icey waters was the armoured vehicle still hanging onto the cable. Revy pulled out a Beretta and aimed it at the bolt that secured the cable to the BTR.

The Beretta fired, and blew apart the connection. Than the BTR began to fall, until it's descent was stopped by it's impact upon the dock. Though the vehicle was way beyond the weight limits that the creators of the wooden dock had in mind, British workmanship prevented a total collapse of the foundation. Though it was unlikely that it could be used again as a test for the durability of Russian APC's.

Revy climbed inside the BTR and with satisfaction, started the engine with succes and drove away towards St Anne. Leaving behind a heavily damaged dock, a severe dented Russian cargo ship, angry sailors and a captain who had curled himself up in a corner and was crying at the mutilation of his beloved ship.

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**Bond Street, London**

A home for those with refinery and money, the legendary Bond Street has existed for several decades as thé place to go to if you were rich and had taste, a rather rare combination. The street had been in some decline with the waves of fashion boutiques replacing the distinguished art dealers and antique shops, but enough remained to make Bond Street a place with the tastes and the means to fullfill them.

But it was not a place for high-speed pursuits as three vehicles, two American SUV's and a German BMW, raced with dangerous speeds through the street. If that was not bad enough for the stature of Bond Street, the BMW skipping a turn on it's pursuers by driving through a corner-located fashion boutique and destroy for more than 20,000 pounds on design clothing and glass windows. The act was almost enough to bring the store owners to a state of raged running around with pitchforks, not to mention it being unsportman-like to the SUV's who were too suprised to follow through and had to make the turn, losing some distance on their target.

Within the car, Balalaika pushed the gas pedal down even further than just in Bond Street, as now there was less chance of hitting a pedestrian and have his broken body obscure the vision. Though she was new in London, she knew enough about high-speed chases to constantly turn into side-streets and try to loose them. Free cable-television was finally earning it's use.

"Interesting."

"Wha, what!?" Her passenger and reason why they were in a car chase, spoke out in a almost hysterical tone. Rose still was being in a some what panicked state, as things went way too fast to relax and enjoy the suspense.

"That tailor shop in Bond Street we just passed. I have two suits made there. Good quality, but expensive."

Rose looked to her as if she had become insane. More than usual, at least. The BMW made some more evasive turns and finally ended up on the road leading towards Buckingham Palace. As traffic was too busy to look for herself and the rear viewing mirror was out of place, Balalaika turned to Rose while just barely moving away fast enough to avoid being crushed between two delivery trucks .

"Tovaritsj, Could you see look at the rear to see if we still are being followed?"

The young woman nodded, and looked at the side mirror to see any black SUV's following. She didn't get to see them however, as a hail of gunfire from the rear tore the mirror apart in pieces of glass and plastic.

"And?"

"Yah, they still following us. But are moving up to shooting us!"

Behind them, the Land Rovers were forcing their own way through the traffic, and were now catching up with the BMW. And ahead, Buckingham Palace was nearing. And standing at the gate before the palace as usual, the famous Foot Guards who would not move in any circumstances, not even when they are taunted by drunks and American tourists. Except for one circumstance. Balalaika wasn't a expert on British protocol, but she knew enough of soldiers to see a possible way to get rid of their pursuers. She pushed the gas pedal down hard, and made sure that the Land Rovers were able to follow.

Buckingham Palace was now getting very close, and now Rose could see what she thought Balalaika was going to do. And she didn't like it.

"Uh, turn please. Turn to the left or to the right."

"What would you prefer?"

"Anything, JUST TURN!"

The BMW still accelerated, passing the Victoria Memorial, with no intent or turning either left or right. Balalaika knew that this was a very dangerous gamble, but what would life be if you didn't take life-or-death bets on what distance the palace guards will react at the oncoming vehicle and it's following convoy. She hoped it would be 40 metres.

It became 50 metres. The training and discipline of the Foot Guards was lower than Balalaika expected. To the shock of two American tourists in khaki shorts and Hawai-shirts and to the excitement of their children, the normally-frozen guard moved in a unseen almost liquid like motion and shouldered his rifle while taking aim at the cars with clear hostile intent, and fired five rounds rapid. The accuracy was excellent, and would have likely put down Balalaika if she did not forsee it, she actually planned it, and took a incredible sharp turn to the left. The bullets impacted without harm, and the BMW drove off inmediatly away from the palace.

But the Land Rovers, who hoped that Balalaika would stop or at least take any action that didn't involve suicidial, were taken by suprise of the turn of events and hit the brakes too late to avoid being seen a threat by the alerted palace security. Foot Guards swarmed out before the gate and kneeled down while taking the lead SUV under fire. The Land Rover's hull was reinforced with kelvar along with a titanium frame, but it was not enough to protect the men inside being riddled with bullets, and letting go the steering wheel. With the speed it accumalated, the SUV spinned out of control and rammed itself against the sides of the Victoria Memorial, causing it to flip over.

Than while being upside down, it skidded along the street, narrowingly missing several Foot Guards who jumped out of the way, and finally impacted against the main gate itself, denting the bars a little bit. And than it exploded, due to gasoline leaking from the perforated tanks and sparks caused by it's short top-side slide.

The other Land Rover was less keen on such a dramatic ending, and hit the brakes just in time. Than the SUV went into reverse, swung around and than retreated along the same road it came. The Foot Guards fired several shots at it in the distance, and called in police support to pursue the would-be attacker of Buckingham Palace, aswell as reinforcements if this was the first wave of many to come.

Some distance away, the BMW continued to drive past the Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament while the shopping masses were hurrying towards Buckingham Palace to look for themselves where the explosion and gunfire came from. And if there would be more to catch on their mobile phones and digital cameras and sell it for huge sums of money to the Sun.

"We need to ditch the car. Even in Moscow people would notice the bulletholes, but I doubt the London police would be polite enough to not ask. And a safe house, until we can contact Hellsing."

"Why just not call them now?"

"..I forgot to ask for the number of the mansion."

A akward silence filled the car, only disrupted by the many sirenes of ambulances and police cars driving past. Until Rose raised herself up as if thinking of a sudden good idea.

"We could go to the Powell Estate and stay there with my mum until someone picked us up."

"Your...mother?" And for the first time since the near-traumatic expierences with Hansel and Gretel, Balalaika felt losing some of her carefully built up composure that was designed to withstand entire world wars and vampire incursions. A visit to one's mother, was a entire bit differently. But as she was more than ready to amputate a limb to avoid capture, she knew the neccesity to pay a higher cost.

"Very well. We seek refuge with your...mother."

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**St Anne, Alderney**

"Would anyone like... a peanut?"

Apart from the occasional gunshot and the random attack from a overly stupid villager who was put down the moment he came into their barrelsights, it was becoming really quiet and peaceful on several seconds. Hiding behind their make-shift barricade, the last three survivors of the landing party were considering what to do.

"We can't obiviously stay here. Ammo is low and it won't take long before they decide to do a smart thing and set fire to the pub." Tommy visualized it by taking out the mag in his Sigsauer and showing it to be two rounds short of a full clip. And it was the last one.

"Shhsh, they might hear you and write down ideas." The Doctor had recovered a bag of salty peanuts from a mini-rack that fell down during the fight.

"Do we have a radio?"

"In car." Kirill responded, checking the ammo of his Skorpion and the AK that he retrieved from the dead soldier in the pub.

"Signal flares?"

"In car."

"English lessons?"

"In ca...Hey!"

"Stop it, both of you. Now, Doctor. You were looking over that dead innkeeper some moments ago. Did you discover anything that could have set off this behaviour? Inhabitants of little sea towns don't fuckin go around shooting soldiers! This isn't a Lovecraft story."

"Besides his death being overly dramatic? No drugs or chemicals, or any that I could discover. No brain-controlling implants or parastic alien lifeforms that are controlling his actions. Apart from dangerously increased levels of testerone and adrenaline, they're as normal as any human. Physically that is."

"You think it is a mental issue?"

"Likely. Perhaps some form of indoctrination, but that wouldn't explain their ability to switch from 'friendly' to 'unfriendly' mode, unless they are great actors. I presume it is some form of hypnosis, one that is activated by images or words, or a combination of both. Which could be a good thing for these people."

"Why?"

"Because if there is a 'on-switch', than there should a 'off-switch'. We only need to find who or what is behind this. But he must be a powerful hypnotist to be able to affect a entire village or be in a position to hpynotize them all at once."

"Maybe it was done in the pub?" Kirill opted.

"No, even in England, pubs do not gather áll the people in a small community. But there is one place that does."

"Church." Tommy stated.

"Yes, both a place of preserving the souls of humans, and a banner to unite against each other. Which means whoever did this must have assumed the position of a priest. Not unlike this is the first time I encountered something like this happen..ning..."

The Doctor looked suddenly faraway, as if he was reminded of something or someone who took a large place in his memories.

"Doctor?" Tommy made the Doctor snap out of his sudden almost-trance like state.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was having trouble of a ghost from the past...and does anyone hear that?"

"Hear?"

"Thát, if the gunfire made you deaf aswell."

Tommy and Kirill at first didn't hear a thing, but than slowly they could hear the engine of something heavy approaching. And with their military expierence, they knew this meant salvation. Or damnation, if the villagers had revealed to have a tank in their possesion.

The roaring came closer, and to the suprise of all, a large armoured vehicle drove up the town square at a alarming speed without any clear intent of slowing down. Not to mention hitting the brakes, a event very similairly to another just a few dozen miles away in London. And as in London, the hazardous driver made a turn on the very last moment and finally hit the brakes. The tires screeched and the vehicle came to a stop just before the pub.

Silence, apart from the still monstrously-humming BTR-80, came over the town square. Until someone thought that it would be a smart idea to fire upon a armour meant to survive the warzones of WW3 longer than five second. The few bullets that impacted, bounced of the thick hull without doing anything, not even superficial.

But it did evoke a reaction, namely the small turret of the BTR swinging the barrel of the 30mm cannon installed within towards what the gunner expects to be the sniper's hideout, and open fire. Ten rounds were enough to turn the window and the room beneath it into Swiss cheese. But more people were still by strong mindcontrol, unable to grasp reality, and continued firing. The gunner, who was also the driver, than restorted to turning the turret a full 360 degrees whilst firing it's entire current magazine into the buildings surrounding the square.

Than silence reigned again, as did the ugly side of enthusiastic destruction. As three men slowly departed the pub past the GAZ Jeep embedded in it, they started in amazement as to what one person could do with an armoured personnel carrier with an really big gun on top. The architect of the rampage, opened a entry hatch and climbed out for half.

She looked at the three stunned men with a smile that contested between satisfaction and sadism.

"I'd usually don't take hitchhikers, but you cute boys lookin' for a ride?"

"Where to, darlin'?" Tommy replied, nearly breaking a smile.

"Hell and back, honey." Revy replied with a lustful and scary grin.

"If I got Airmiles for every time I travelled to that place, I would be three Economy Class airplane tickets to New York richer." The Doctor said, not really seeing the good in this much mayhem. He was too old for that sort of thing.

Kirill was the only one didn't say a thing. He first needed Russian medication, a full bottle of vodka, before witty replies under tense situation would be a accesible ability.


	19. Chapter 19: Terror Beginning Part 2

**Alderney**

After departing the madness that was St Anne and it's inhabitants, the BTR-80 with the survivors rode through the fog to possible safety with a extreme unsafely speed, that regretably soon claimed a innocent victim.

"Ah No! Why did-Why did you do that?"

"Sheep need to understand the rules of the road, they're just the same Doc. No pedestrians allowed."

"You aren't ON the road any longer, we're crossing the fields!"

"So? What would be a all-terrain vehicle be good for if I just kept it on the road. And it makes an ambush from those town freaks less likely."

A sudden flare in the mist, and a project leaving a trail of smoke came directly at the speeding armoured vehicle. Revy saw it, and reacted, by kicking the brakes to death and turn the steering wheel as hard as she could. To the safety but also severe discomfort of her fellow passengers who where violently hurled to one side of the BTR, and than the other. Meanwhile, Revy's impulsive actions narrowingly caused the missile to miss, and instead claim a another sheep who had remained neutral in the current conflict that trembled the island.

"What the hell, Rev!" Tommy shouted as he removed his face from the hull it was smashed against.

"R-P-G!" Revy put the vehicle in reverse, now kicking the gaspedals into a coma, as she couldn't see the attackers but they could definately see her. After gaining enough momentum, Revy swung the steering wheel around again and made the BTR to slip into a position that was directed back to the village. For a single moment, she pondered if going back there was a wise decision. But a new flare and a fast nearer-coming whizzing sound, erased those doubts. For the hundreth time in it's service after it rolled from the great Russian armour factories, the gaspedals endured physical force that could kill a man if directed near anything vital, and be damned sure to break something wherever it landed.

As the armoured vehicle speeded off in the distance, a pair of cold calculating eyes were watching them through a infrared binoculars. Only after precisely determining the direction they were heading, the binoculars were lowered and the man holding them turned to a group of men who were operating a Javelin AT launcher.

"Gentlemen, the prey is fleeing." The man waited a moment for dramatic effect. "..To a place where escape is impossible. Load up everything back in the Black Hawk, let not give them time to think things over. One of them is very dangerous if he has time to think."

The men nodded, not having a clue what their employer was talking about as always, although completly understanding of the words 'money' and 'lots'. Swiftly they packed their equipment up, and boarded the Black Hawk who went in pursuit. As they were gaining ground, the leader remembered Yvonne Hartman's words.

'Alive and talking. The biology lessons derived from his corpse would earn some biologist the Nobel Prize, but it is utterly insignificant compaired to the information he could share with Torchwood, and acces to a certain blue box. So, alive ánd talking.'

And while she would certainly scream and terminate the contract if she knew that the men she hired to capture the Doctor were firing anti-tank rockets at him, the man known as Lytton knew that much heavier artillery was required to bring him down for good. And it was not like the man was capable of dying in such a easy manner.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**St Anne**

Even under the high levels of brainwashing and indoctrination that the villagers have underwent, they began to realize that things weren't going the way they planned.

Half the village was shot to pieces, along with two-thirds of it's population. The remaining villagers had gathered on the townsquare, some wounded, some deaf, to listen to what the only man with a bit of authority had to say. His name was Bill Hakeswill, a fact that caused many verbal abuse in his youth, and he was the local postman. For a population of considerably below hundred, it was not that much of a position but it was more than that of the milkboy who was eagerly awaiting Hakeswill's commands, while holding a hand for his right eyesocket while it was bleeding because of a lack of an eye.

"Ascended of Alderney, listen to me. All this was a illusion, no enemy can withstand a god or kill one. What you might see as death, is just departing your weak physical body and the ascenion to a higher form of being."

"Oh, how glad I am to hear that. Got me worried there for a bit." Said one of the villagers, before he dropped on his knees and fell face-down on the stones that were wet by all of the blood spilled over it. Missing a arm and by now five gallons of blood, might had something to do with it.

"See? We have nothing to worry, as we are the rightful Gods of this world and nothing can-"

The roars of something that might have come from Hell itself, but Russia instead, overwhelmed the postman's inspiring speech. It was only until it's very appearance, swinging around the corner and than straight ahead at the townsquare, that finally broke whatever remained of the villager's psychophatic spirit and caused them to scatter for safety. Besides the postman, who remained faithful in the belief that he was a God among men and that his enemies would scatter for him. Until the reinforced tires of the BTR-80 ran him down and crushed his skull like a rotten egg.

It sucks to be at the wrong side of a belief.

But as the villagers ran for cover, the armoured vehicle and it's passengers ignored them and drove out of the village on towards a different kind of cover, one that would provide protection against the Black Hawk that was following them. After returning the same way they came, the dark helicopter descended down on them and began to take potshots at them, with a Javelin. The driver heavily recommended to 'blow their fuckin asses out of the sky with the big gun', but the passengers voted against as the cannon could not be aimed high enough and that they could not even see their target. The fact that they knew it was a Black Hawk, was of Tommy's expierence in Iraq. That it was following and shooting at them, was spoiled because of the explosions that ripped apart the ground around them.

"People! We're running out of ground and those fucks behind us aren't running out of rockets! Suggestions, NOW!"

"Tourgis." Tommy suddenly spoke.

"What?"

"Fort Tourgis, it's a UNIT outpost. My grandfather brought there once as part of a vacation trip through England when I was a small boy. And let me tell you that there is nothing more awe-inspiring than playing on the beach one moment, and than see your grandad pistol-whip some insectoid alien in the face the next. Not to mention the following weekend in Cardiff."

Tommy shuddered at the memory, which also involved weeks of therapy after his grandfather finally returned him home. Suffice to say, it considerably broke the bonds between his parents and his grandfather, who now was only allowed to visit during Christmas, and not closer to little Tommy than five metres. Still didn't prevent Tommy from witnessing his granddad wrestling with an alive manquinn doll at Harrods and destroying it by throwing it in the path of a oncoming double-decker bus..

"Ah, the memories of youth. I still remember kindergarten, with fond memories of removing deadly ammounts of radiation from our bodies into a object. Might have been the cause of an old rival when I radiated his sandwich."

"I killed three people when I was eleven."

A sudden silence came over in the BTR, only to be interrupted by a new near-miss from the Javelin, and Kirill talking about his childhood on his uncle Yuri's farm but no one paying attention. The Doctor scratched his head, at a temporairy loss of words. He was a Doctor in just about anything, but his use of psychology had been focused on the offensive, distracting, angering, confusing, pointing out the flaws in ones personality. A very different kind of psychology would be required to glue up the fractures in that woman's soul.

"Uh guys, sorry I fucked up the childhood talk, but that Tourgis thing. Happens to be that fort over there?"

The BTR-80 was taking a new turn, and beyond it was a 19th century fortress. From the looks of it, it wasn't in any shape to be used by a professional military, but looks were decieving in a world where manquinn dolls tend to kill people and chavs were capable of uncontrolled killing sprees. Tommy was just about to say that he might have been wrong, but than a massive explosion rocked the armoured vehicle and made it flip over to one side, tumbling it's passengers all around.

"Got 'em. One more for the final kill?" The Black Hawk was flying circles around the flipped over the BTR-80, and the mercenary was anxious to end it now and get his money without further hassle.

"No. We wait until they get in the open. Unless you want to search through the burning wreckage all by yourself, than you can be might guest." Lytton wasn't also sure about the regeneration lasting long enough for them to get the Doctor out. But they didn't have to deliver every inch of the man. But than again there was the question of enough material remaining for him to regenerate from.

"Ronnie, lend us your rifle."

Inside the vehicle, the Doctor and the rest were getting up from a new series of bumps and bruises. "I'm thinking about making a complaint to the Hellsing Travelling Agency about these unpleasantries."

"Fuckin A'!" The voice came beneath a pile of legs and empty ammunition boxes.

Tommy managed to lift himself up and went for the underside hatch that was in place for such events. They had no time to sit around and recover, the Black Hawk could fire on them any moment soon. The soldier released the lock and pushed open the hatch that led to fresh but damned cold air. For one second, he stuck his head out to observe the surroundings, but pulled himself inmediatly when a bullet bounced off the hull just inches away from his head.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Unlikely, unless he was a Time Lord with a violent behaviour. And how about the top hatch?"

"They are flying in circles to cover all the exits, so no. We need to distract them and have them remain at one side of the vehicle while we make a run for it to the Fort. Volunte-"

"I'll go. Had enough running from these bastards." Revy unholstered her twin Beretta's and went for the underside hatch. Tommy wanted to say 'Don't', at least not with just a pair of semi-automatics, but knew it was unlikely to stop her. He wondered what feats Revy could accomplish if that anger was directed at something useful, like art or demolishing buildings. But being very good at killing people, would suffice for the situation.

Revy waited besides the hatch, while Tommy, the Doctor and Kirill waited by the top one. They heard the sound of the Black Hawk's rotors, circling like a carrion vulture above a nearly dead prey. "Go!" and Revy, against common sense, head-dived out of the hatch and rolled over the ground while raising her body and her Cutlasses to the Black Hawk. Lytton, who was wielding the German HK sniper rifle, was suprised by the unexpected action. Even more suprised when the first 9mm bullet struck the scope of the rifle and made it unable for any precision markmanship. The rest of the following barrage weren't as luck or as accurate, they harmlessly bounced from the reinforced helicopter's hull who had been custom-made to withstand shrapnel and light-calibre machineguns.

Down to the ground, as Revy sprinted, jumped and rolled while taking the enemy under fire, Tommy and his companions opened the top hatch and jumped out from the vehicle. Kirill pushed the Doctor forward while they were running towards the Fort which was close. Tommy followed and when they nearly got to the entrance, he turned around and saw to his fears that Revy, instead of following them, was instead heading closer to the helicopter while emptying her weapons at it. Damned woman, Tommy thought as he turned around and ran back.

Though alarming at first with the lucky shot, the mercenaries began to laugh at the woman below firing her woefully inadquate pistols at a helicopter that was designed to survive war zones. That was the only reason why Revy had a few more seconds to live.

"Look at that, it's like freakin' My First Gun down there. Hey, who wants to bet me shooting out both her kneecaps, before she hits the ground." A raw laughter from his comrades followed, with the exception of Lytton who moved closer into the helicopter in precaution of the bullets being sent upsky to them.

"Macendale, I suggest you kill that woman before she gets lucky again."

"No worries sir, unless she wants to get 'lucky' with me, she couldn't hit a elephant in a bu-" Macendale wanted to finish the mocking remark, but a 9mm slug through his throat prevented him. The other mercenaries, besides Lytton who had been expecting something like that, jumped up in suprise.

Macendale raised a finger with his free hand, the other attempting to stop the massive flow of blood pouring out the hole that started in his throat and ended in the back of his neck. He was attempting to ask for medical aid, or any kind of help. But a new 9mm slug hitting him right between the eyes. The mercenary winked with his eyes one more last time, before he dropped to the right and out of the Black Hawk before landing as a uniformed and bloody sack of potatoes on the ground.

"Anyone else feeling 'lucky'? Get the minigun."

Tommy sprinted towards Revy, who released her emtpy magazines and was trying to insert new ones. No time for tact, Tommy grabbed her upper arm, making her drop the new magazine, and by Revy's middle and pull her back as fast as possible.

"What the f-! Tommy you shit, let me go!"

The captain didn't respond, he was too busy pulling a struggling Revy to safety that was a considerable distance away. Argueing with her still remained a unachievable feat. Tommy glanced back at the Black Hawk who had remained in a hovering position. An odd thing, considering of it's passengers with Revy's help just took a nose-dive. Than, emerging from the dark space where people were eager to kill, came a familair multi-barelled construction. Tommy's eyes went wide, and so did Revy's when she finally stop struggling. A minigun was too much sound for her drums of war.

"Run!" Revy screamed while freeing herself from Tommy's grasp, and was now the one doing the pulling before the captain snapped out of his shock and sprinted after his subordinate. Seconds later, the barells began to spin and a another second went past before they began to spill hundreds of rounds in the direction of Revy and Tommy.

The ground around them was being torn to shreds, and nearly them aswell before reaching the safety of the flipped-over BTR-80. The bullets still pounded on the reinforced metal as Revy and Tommy were trying to catch breath from their hurried sprint. Though with not even enough air in him to whisper, Tommy talked any way.

"We..need..to..split..up..make..it..to..fort..you..left..I..right."

"How about...you..left..I..right."

"No, you..go left..and I..right."

"Ass..hole."

"Under..stood. NOW GO!"

Going seperately, the two made a flanking move towards the gates of the fort, making it difficult for the gunner to pick a target and relying on spray and pray to take them down. So to even the odds, they reloaded the Javelin once more, and aimed it at the fort gate. It fired, releasing the rocket past the dozens of 12.7mm rounds heading the same way, and struck the ground at the gate.

Unfortunately for the mercenaries, Tommy and Revy had already gone past the gate and were now temporairly safe from the minigun. But the shockwave from the Javelin impact was still enough to lift them up and send them flying, right into the entrance and the reception room and landing in a heap of struggling limbs that was entangled. It would almost seem a overly passionate act of love, if not for the angry voices.

"Get off me you goddamned perv!"

After some more shouting and pushing, the two finally managed to be free, though with some loss of dignity on Tommy's part. As they tried to stand up and looked around in the dark reception, they noticed the Doctor and Kirill, who had their backs turned to them while staring at a white wall. Revy, who's temper had already reached critical levels, stormed towards the Doctor with the intention of having her fist meet up with the Doctor's face as a punishment for ignoring her and Tommy while they nearly were killed.

But than she, and the captain, saw the mutilated body of a woman in uniform. Close-up shot from a double-barrel, spoke Revy's morbid and dark expierence. Than she followed the trail of blood that was left on the wall behind her, and suddenly felt her heart stop beating. Even she never saw anything like blood being used as handpaint to draw in large letters a sentence on the wall.

_THIS WAY DOCTOR_

_FOLLOW THE CARNAGE_

And it ended with a thick arrow pointing towards a dark corridor with a elevator door that was attempting to close but repeatly was blocked by a blood-covered arm, without a body or even a torso to been attached to.

Silence reigned again, as the party realized that they were facing a considerable dangerous and unknown opponent inside, while a opponent with far superior firepower was waiting to kill them all outside. They all came to the conclusion that this was one of those days in which they never should have gone out of their beds.


	20. Chapter 20: Terror Begun

**Powell Estate, London**

Driving along the children playing their games on the streets and stopping onto a parking spot that was too small for the Rolls Royce, a eldery butler who kept a youthful vitality to his movements stepped out of the car and opened the door for his Lord, though Integra Hellsing's gender would make 'Lady' more appropiate if it didn't clash with her personality and dominance. Observing the surroundings like a general would view a battlefield after the slaughter, Integra retrieved a cigar from her pocket and cut off the top, while her servant Walter provided the fire to ignite it.

"I pray this will be the correct adress. Kapitan Balalaika has not been in England for long and a geographical mistake is quick to make in these commoner grounds. But if she did, it tells of her abilities. More than that catrasophe she caused in the city."

"There will be relativing conditions to that incident, I expect."

"Nothing relative can make forcing the Royal Footguards to break their duty, use their weapons and have a American car explode at the gates of her Majesty's residence any less of the horror that it already is, Walter."

Her butler nodded, knowing that while the damage was only superficial and the burning wreck already removed and the Footguards back into position, it would make a severe dent in Hellsing's honour if word went out that it was caused by one of it's operatives, a Russian one even. But it could have been worse. It could have been the American girl who might not have the dignity to run away, and instead confront the police and Footguards as to what she would perceive as a 'job well fuckin done'.

Inside the estate, Integra had to take a repulsively unmaintained staircase that led to the upper appartments, passing several inhabitants who gave a curious look to the odd couple, in the suspicion of them being yuppies of some kind. After a walk past several of the almost identical third-rate council flats, Integra halted at the door that the voice on the other line earlier had sworn was the one. But before Integra could knock the door to shambles with the strength and superiority of a English noble, Walter pressed the door bell. A few seconds followed, before a loud and high-pitched voice responded.

"Who is it? Oh Rose stop, might be Mrs Dale from below for a cup a' tea, she always comes around this part of the day and-Mrs Bala..Bally...Mrs Balalalala, where are you going with that gun?"

A loud sigh, audible enough to sound through the door, and a few more seconds followed before Kapitan Balalaika opended the door with a weary face, that relieved upon seeing her transport out of this council flat. She was even pleased enough to put away the German pistol that she was holding against the door, and place it back behind her belt. One might pointed out the severe dangers of carrying a weapon like that around without the safety lock in place and keeping it cocked, but no one did.

"Kapitan Balalaika."

"Sir Integra."

"I presume that explanations will follow." Integra went past Balalaika and into the living room of the Tyler family. Sitting on chairs, were the two Tylers, who turned to Integra. The TV was on, hard, about a new goverment project.

_'-Officials stated that the launch of the Archangel network was a complete succes without any difficulties. Minister Saxon himself was reported to be enthuastic at the completion of his pet-project that he was working on since being in goverment. He was reported to say that Archangel will cure miscommunication like a doctor would cure diseases.'_

Meanwhile Rose quickly glanced to Integra, and than to her mother, Jacqueline Tyler or as she prefers, Jackie. Who now took a sharp look at the newest person who brought her daughter into trouble.

For a second, it seemed like all the air was being vented from the air as the two women looked at each other.

"So you be Miss Hellsing, I am right?" Jackie's eyes narrowed.

"Sír Hellsing, if you could mind." The pressure of Integra's teeth on the cigar was increasing.

"And you being who exactly? One of that Doctor's old girlfriends, bringing my daughter in touch with crazy people with guns and to nearly be killed at Buckingham Palace!" The temperature in the room was lowering itself to sub-zero.

"I never met the Doctor before he appeared and dumped his old police box in the basement of my manor, without even invitation. And while the Doctor has been taken care off, I still had the deceny to deliver your daughter who was also uninvited to your residence. That men were set out to kill or kidnap her, would be of her doing, not mine." Integra remained unphased, cigar in her hand and the gaze of a ice wall radiating from her eyes.

Balalaika shuffled out of the room, Walter coughed out of politeness and Rose felt uneasy and wished for the Doctor to be here. Surely Daleks were tougher to deal with than with two very stubborn women, both a end-result of generations of breeding in enviroments that tested their survival skills, though in it was more literal in Hellsing's case than in that of the Tyler's as besides the occasional killer Christmas tree, Slitheen and traffic wardens, the greatest threat she faced were the Saturday discount sales.

"Mum, it was Mrs Balalaika who saved me from those Torchwood people."

"Actually, they were not Torchwood, from what we know. Police found a exact copy of the car, burned out along the road to London. Inside it was the employee of Torchwood who Hartman had claimed to have sent. Shot in the head."

"Dear God.." Jackie found that news a bit unsettling. Strangely, 'normal' causes of death seemed to be harder to deal with than the ones than those that occured with the Doctor. The surreal way in which they happend, made them ironically easyier to accept.

"God has nothing to do with it. Besides exacting righteous revenge. But the end result still remains that Buckingham Palace has been attacked. And whoever was responsible will suffer our wrath. But I require your daughter to return to the mansion as low standards of living will be less than effective weapons against those who just need to overcome their dignity."

Her education might have not been much, but Jackie recognized a insult when she heard one. "I'd be thinking not! If you be takin my daughter, I be coming too!"

The three members of the Hellsing Organisation turned to Jackie, Rose just lowered her head in her hands. Besides the discomfort of three people in the backseat of the car, it never happend in the history of any paramilitary group that a visitor's mother would come along and be present in the heart of their operations. Such a thing was listed among other unlikely and horrible events like Judgement Day and Armageddon.

**UNIT Outpost, Alderney**

Not keen on anymore visitors, Tommy, Revy and Kirill were working as fast as they could to block the entrance with file cabinets, chairs and the large desk where the dead UNIT officer had been using. A request from Revy to use the woman's corpse as extra weight on the barricade, was distinctly denied.

Meanwhile, the Doctor walked back and forth from the blood enscribed request on the wall, and the elevator that was the meaning of the invitation. A blinking computer terminal next to the elevator doors, caught his attention and took out his famed sonic tool and began to work on it. Which caught the attention of Revy who finished placing just about anything heavy up on the hastily improvised barricade.

"Doc? Hey Doc! I thought we agreed, no following of any creepy instructions written in blood."

"What agreement? We haven't even talked until now."

"The little voices in our heads talked and agreed. Reason and Logic were the ones most in favour of not going into that elevator."

Tommy and Kirill were just walking away from the barricade, in order to find more to pile up and to avoid a likely messy debate between Revy and the Doctor, when it violently exploded and reduced the barricade into burning remains could be used as firewood.

"..But it seems that Fate, Bad Luck and Heavy Weaponry have the advantage."

"To the elevator!" Tommy pushed Kirill forward and grabbed Revy by the arm, in order to get them to the elevator. He quickly kicked the bloody limb away before entering, and forced the two others inside. "Doctor!"

"I'm coming!" The Doctor made some more adjustments with the screwdriver, before the elevator finally went back online, and ran inside just before the doors closed.

"What floor, ma'am?" Tommy looked at the controls, but there was only two options. Up or Down. Now he thought about it, he never recalled using this elevator from his earlier, nor being told what was down by his grandfather.

"We're Up, so the natural and logic cause of action would be going Down." The Doctor pushed the button, and the elevator reacted almost uncanny fast for a machine and lowered itself inmediatly. As they began to descend, Revy checked her weapons.

"I just hope that whoever is down there, doesn't have the same equipment as our friends up."

As the elevator went into the unknown, the smoke from the barricade's remains revealed several green thin lightbeams penetrating it. Several moments later, the first of Lytton's mercenaries entered with his weapon raised and cautious of threat. More followed, until they all assembled, with the expection of their team leader with whom they remained in contact while he remained on the Black Hawk that landed in front of the Fort.

"_This is Crowe to Team Leader, no sign of targets. We have one dead military, female, belonging to UNIT._"

"Understood Crowe, now search and destroy within the complex."

"_Roger Team Leader. We will advance_."

**Black Hawk**

Lytton turned to his canteen, filled with a warm brew made accordingly to a five-thousand year old family recipe, and took a long sip to try drive away the cold crept into his bones. It was also a effective way to repel some of the homesickness he felt. It was strange that after all the planets, time periods and even dimensions he visited, he still felt a slight sting from the pain Lytton felt the first time he was taken from his planet and forced into a time-travelling mercenary outfit.

Since that day, it had been thirty years. Or more like thirty million considering the eras of conflict that were spanned.

"_Hello? Anyone there?_" Before the ce could finish it's sentence, Lytton snatched his radio and shouted with a harsh tone into the receiver. "No unnecessary radio contact! Serious reports only!"

"_Sorry, terrible sorry but I do have something to report. It's even Serious. Your men, all dead. How serious does that sound?_"

"What?"

A loud bang to the side of the Black Hawk alerted Lytton and the pilots, one taking out his sidearm as a precaution. "What was that?"

"_I know what you are, Lytton. Unwanted. So leave now and die in a different place in a different time. And forget about the bonus._"

"I'll make the judge of that!" Lytton grabbed a spare assault rifle, and leapt out of the Black Hawk to ensure his contract was fulfilled and that he would get his bonus. But that all changed when he landed on something squishy and wet that snapped under his weight. Lytton looked down, even though he didn't want to. And shouldn't have, as he saw he was standing on the scattered remains of a human brain. With bloodied bits of skull and skin surrounding it. A little bit further was the half-smashed head of one of his men. Apparently it was the thing that banged against the Black Hawk earlier.

Lytton, veteran of many horrors in the galaxy, could not help himself but gasp in fright and leapt back into the helicopter. Trying to stand up inside, he felt himself having to stand straight, because of his shaking knees. His stride towards the now-terribly confused pilot, interrupted by slipping over the small deck. Wondering how it became so sudden slippery, Lytton once again made the error to look down. This time, it was seeing a trail of blood and tiny bits of brain, shaped in the crude form of footprints along the deck. Once again, Lytton gasped and tried to scrub away the sickening sight with his boots, before finally acknowledging that it was futile.

"Get us out of here, now!" He shouted while clamping onto the pilot seats.

The pilots, eyes covered by the black visors attached to their helmets, silently nodded. They didn't know what exactly was going on, but they knew that loyalty was ranked a lot lower than survival and receiving their pay check on their list of priorities.

As for Lytton, there were other contracts. Other times-eras to get back at the Doctor, though he doubted it would be this one. Both because his regenerations were spread through time and space too random, and because Lytton doubted the Time Lord would escape this time. But than his mind went to other matters, like considering the offer from the Cryons he received some time ago.

In the shadows of the forced-open entrance of Fort Tourgis, two intense radiating red eyes were watching the Black Hawk lifting itself into the air and than vanishing into the dark clouds. A wicked smile revealed a set of sharp fangs, still dripping with mercenary blood.

"Time to entertain my guests."

**Mysterious Underground Facility**

Somewhere below the island of Alderney, a liftdoor opened and spilled out a handful of armed individuals followed by one unarmed individual who was quite content with it. The room before them was dark but somehow they could feel it stretching far.

"Anyone brought a flashlight?"

The Doctor looked around in what little light came from the lift interior's, but quickly spotted a opportunity. He pulled out his trademark tool, the Sonic Screwdriver, and pointed at what seemed to be a fusebox. A really expensive and modern-looking and seeming to be out of touch.

But than the lights came to life, illuminating the room they were in and the offices and the air-isolated laboratories. Even the complex of caverns and construction sites beyond that. Despite the massive building efforts, the large ammounts of concentre and steel were not what drew the Doctor and his companion's eyes. It was the gargantuan and odd grey-green temple-like structure that all the human-built constructs were surrounding. Whatever it was, it was not supposed to be beneath a small island like Alderney.

"Doctor, just what the hell is that thing?" Tommy was echoeing the minds of the three humans. Silence was the answer from the Time Lord, who's analyzing and deducing was bringing him to old and dangerous time in his history."Doctor?"

"At the moment, not so sure-" He was half-lying as not even he could be sure if it were who he thought it were or some other, related, that he had yet to encounter. "-But I am beginning to feel that we will get a answer soon. Starting by investigating the place."

"Investigating? Like the fuckin Scooby-Doo gang, with a shitload of heavy-packing thugs after us!?"

The lift doors closed, the automated response met with firearm-threat from Kirill and Tommy, and it began to move upward back to the surface.

"Speak of the Devil. Hold on." The Doctor moved over to the Up and Down buttons, and poked the Sonic Screwdriver against them to work it's technology. A few seconds later, the lift stopped with a screech, and was stuck between the surface fort entrance and the underground one.

"Good thing Doctor. Even if they brought electricians and climbing gear, it'll take a while to remove the obstacle that is the lift....assuming you locked it with some decent 'Doctor-knows-it-all' trick, not have easily reactivated by simply redirecting a circuit." Tommy was tensed, even before realizing that beyond the lift, they did not know a way out of this underground facility. Speaking of which..

"Where is everyone?"

"I just was about to ask the same."

The seeming cleanliness and expenses of the entire project were too great for it be abandoned or even on a weekend leave. Computers were running in a stand-by mode after the Doctor restored power, office desks had papers with pens still waiting to be finished, cheap plastic coffee mugs with the UNIT symbol were all around with still coffee or tea and just barely cold. Something was wrong here, terribly wrong. Or at least of a different kind of wrong than the wrong at the village or at the fort.

"Lieutenant, Revy, spread out and do some recon, but not too far. Doctor, you're with me."

"Ah, just like old times. Metaphorically speaking of course."

Kirill's exploration was mostly uneventful, at least compaired to what they've been through in the last hour or so. Empty offices with pictures of some really ugly children decorating some of the desks, and public bathrooms more spacious and luxurious than most dachas of high-ranking generals back home. As he took a quick peek in the ladies room and left it as quick as possible, he failed to spot a pair of grey eyes watching him over one of the toilet stalls. They spoke of a cold fascination, like a owl about to swoop down and eat a chanceless prey.

Revy's discoveries were less creepy and more interesting as she discovered a storage room whom's racks had mouthwatering name tags, such as 'SA80', 'G36' and 'M249 SAW'. Unfortunately, the weapon racks were emptied completly, and nothing of any usefulness was present. Apart from two crates that 'Composition C-6' enscribed on the sides. Despite explosives not really being her thing, Revy did enjoy a big boom, especially one that sends limbs of annoying cocksuckers flying.

The Doctor and Tommy's voyage ended up to be the most revealing, as they went directly for the omnious temple, covered on all sides by large scaffolds and lightfixtures illuminating the structure. They entered through a conviently large hole at the base, Tommy could tell it was made by heavy explosives from the damage pattern. Inside, it was a maze of walls covered in cryptic alien runes, the only light coming from halogenic lights on the ceiling and along the floor, placed ten metres apart each. Random laptops and workstations were all around. The Doctor looked intently at every carf, his expression becoming more dire while his Hellsing captain companion felt a growing uncomfort, even when he was unable to identify anything.

"I feel like we're in some aweful scifi exploitation movie, us being trained killers and one alien time-traveller instead of a lot of horny youngsters of course, and that any moment some bloke in a rubbersuit monster is coming around the corner and-OHFUCK!"

Like a twisted version of the Monster from the Black Lagoon, it stood face to face with Tommy who in reflex fired several rounds at it's torso and face and quickly took several steps backward while yelling screams of suprised panic. It took a few moments to realize that the Monster, was not coming after him like the old horror cliche would have demanded.

In fact, it was encased in some sort of green-stained plexiglass dome that the pistol rounds failed to penetrate. And it wasn't even alive, from it's non-moving state it seemed.

"Oh no..."

"Relax Doctor, I didn't kill it and it's entombed, probably dead already."

"Not that you triggerhappy fool, it's a Sil-"

Before the Doctor could end his sentence, a massive collision of noise came from outside the Temple, where Revy and Kirill were. Tommy snapped to attention and pulled the Time Lord by his arm to the exit.

"Wait, you don't understand, this is-"

"Doctor, that can wait for later, we need to find the others first!"

The two men swiftly exited the Temple and ran for the main area where the lift was located, and saw Revy and Kirill already waiting with their weapons at ready. But before Tommy could ask if either knew what was going on, the lift's doors exploded in a rain of large metal fragments. The group hit the deck, one with some unfriendly assistance, keeping their heads down while the shards flew past and caused collateral damage to the surrounding walls and equipment.

As soon as the shrapnel shower was over, Revy pulled herself and started firing at the smoking dark gap without being ordered to do so. Kirill followed her example, sitting on one knee while pouring a full magazine into the lift. Tommy sighed, despite being annoyed at such useless waste of ammunition, and just went along with firing some rounds in.

Only after their weapons gave a empty 'click', the soldiers stopped firing. For a few moments, they watched wether they did manage to kill or even hit something, nothing but an exceptional ammount of gunpowder smoke and dust came out of the lift. As they dropped the magazines and replaced with new full ones, the Doctor stopped pressing his hands against his ears with the aweful loud gunfire finally ceased.

"Fantastic, I now have to wait until I'm killed again to have my eardrums back."

"That can be arranged, Doctor." A voice wisphered into his ear like a actor from the Hammer horror movies."-But for now, I need you alive."

Tommy turned around to see if the Time Lord was alright and was suprised to put it slightly, to see a man in a Angelican priest robes standing next to him, grinning. Wich with the long fangs showing and all, never was a good sign.

"People, behind us! Don't shoot the Doctor if you can avoid it!" Revy and Kirill turned around, and were also shocked at the priest's appearance but not enough from him being a twitch away from being turned into minced meat. But they would hit the Doctor if they fired, causing a uneasy stand-off.

"My my. After what've you seen, you humans still put faith in your guns. How pathetic"

"I would agree with that comment, if there weren't any people like you humans need protection from." The Doctor turned and faced the priest, not letting himself be intimidated by some apparent sociopath. But truth said, there was little sense in running away from a person who do the damage he did to the lift and than appear all the way with him in some sort of teleportation trick.

"People like me will always exist, you of all beings should know this." The priest grin grew wider, and the fangs longer it seemed. His eyes however, turned to a miserable blackness with a glowing blood-red pupil in the centre of both. "But this is a conversation we should continue at the Temple."

With a arm that held strength far beyond the average human, the priest took the Doctor's shoulder and pushed him back to where he and Tommy just came from. Two bullets went through his middle, and yet the priest looked back with only a casual glance to the woman who held a smoking barrel at his face.

"You ain't fuckin going nowhere with our guy."

"To the contrary my dear. And if I wasn't already satisfied with mercenary blood, how low quality it was, I might have taken the time to deal with the three of you. But now it seems a task for my trusted associate. Mrs Grey, if you would please?"

Revy heard a faint shuffle, and realigned one of her weapons while keeping the other on the priest and the Doctor. Before she could look to the direction where the sound came from, she heard another right at her feet. Looking down, it revealed to be the round shaped form of a grenade. Without a safety pin attached, how careless.

The explosion threw up Revy like a ragdoll into the air and sent her flying a distance away until hitting the floor and sliding a few feet onwards before finally stopping. Tommy and Kirill were hit by the explosion to a lesser degree. They were knocked down to the floor, the Russian dropping his rifle that fell away from his grip and now lay beyond his reach. Groggy and confused, Tommy was still holding onto his sidearm as he tried to regain a overview of what was going on.

Than someone stepped on his arm, the wrist to be exact, and kicked the weapon from his hand. Tommy blinked, wondering who could be so fast and looked up to a eldery lady holding a M60 in her arms and at his head. That's what he noticed first with it being a almost ridiclous sight. Than he noticed the woman with more detail, and saw the gray eyes that were filled of murderous intent.

"Oh fu-" Before he could finish the sentence the old woman pressed the machinegun barrel onto his nose, nearly breaking it. Kirill seemed in no state to help in the next five seconds, or even ten.

The thing that looked like a priest grabbed the Doctor by the shoulder, ignoring the Time Lord's struggling. He looked at Mrs Grey, who returned the face of someone on the point of breaking down, but doing so happily.

"Kill them."


	21. Chapter 21: Terror Fall

* * *

The room was in a tensional silence with the priest deciding over the fate of his captives, but only one of importance whom he held onto personally while his servant Mrs Grey had already dispatched one and was now holding her heavy machinegun aimed at the others.

"Kill them."

The order was recieved with glee from the elder woman with a sociopathic pleasure. While Vereker carried the Doctor away at a inhuman pace, Mrs Grey pulled back the bolt of her M60, an strange sight with the weight and size of the weapon compared to the small and thin frame of the woman carrying it. Her wrinkled finger went for the trigger and pulled it.

**BANG!**

The loud crack made Tommy wince, having shut his eyes in a reflex to not stare into the barrel flash. Any moment, he'd would experience a sting from hot lead piercing through his chest or face, and that be the end of it. Any moment became a few seconds, and eventually Tommy realized he wasn't in any pain or even dead. Unless it was the shock from the physical trauma numbing his senses, he had not been hit.

Slowly opening his eyes to see if something had gone wrong, he just managed to catch Mrs Grey falling from his sight, her eyes in utmost suprise at the new hole in between them while her thin arms went limp and the M60 scattered onto the floor. Tommy turned his head, seeing Revy lie on the ground with her sidearm raised and smoking. Covered in bruises and cuts, she still got a smile out.

"Fuckin demented bitch."

The soldier picked himself up with some effort before going over to his American colleague, and lift her from the ground. A lot of curses and difficulty to stand up straight on her own made clear the extent of the injuries, most likely a bruised rib or two and a busted ankle, with a option of a head concussion too. "Kirill?"

"Here. Not dead, you should know." The Lieutenant was holding his head, trying to stop the world from spinning too rapidly.

"Alright, now lets get that bastard."

The group dramatically shuffled their way to their weapons with lots of 'ows' and rude words, before going after the Doctor and his captor. Hopefully they will have the strength to keep their guns up, if they managed to catch up at all.

* * *

**Hellsing Manor**

The drive to the residence and passing through the manor's gates that were protected by sandbagged machinegun posts, with the early construction of pillboxes having begun, was a interesting if unsettling expierence.

"Those weren't there a few hours ago." Rose commented.

"You had not yet been kidnapped a few hours ago. I'm personally done with hoping enemies will take their fights elsewhere, so an next attempt will be done in my family's style." Jackie scoffed at Integra's words. "You mean big and bloody?" Integra did not respond, but Balalaika did by taking on a small grin.

"…Is there any other way?"

In the driver's seat, Walter smiled along. The car quickly made it's way to the manor's entrance. Several soldiers stood in awaiting, snapping to attention and saluted when their leader exited the vehicle. Captain Pickman walked straight towards her, and after giving the salute and the respectful 'sir', he addressed an important point.

"Sir Integra, a colonel from-" But Integra uncannily finished his sentence "-UNIT has arrived earlier and wishes to speak to me." The Captain gave her an odd look, to which she responded by nodding her head to the right.

"The jeep with UNIT stamped on it's doors was a clear sign. I do hope he has been treated well, Captain?" A well treatment at the Hellsing Manor was giving someone harsh looks by men with guns.

"He has been, sir. But he was rather antagonized by something else, and had been very impatient on seeing you."

Integra rubbed her forhead, predicting grey hair within a month. "Ugh, as if this day and those before it have not been troubling enough. Very well. Walter, see to it that the Tylers are accomendated. Captain Balalaika, a change of clothes might be in order."

"Da. I could never figure these troublesome heels. More helpful in stealth assassinations." Rose winced at the memory of Balalaika and high heels.

In her study room, a colonel stood waiting and saluted her, if less enthuastic as her own soldiers did. In his late forties and in standard Army officer dress, Colonel Alan Mace was a prime example of a professional career military man, who might have worked for the Hellsing organization if not for a flat-out refusal from his side. He and UNIT shared the belief, not completely unfounded, that the Hellsings used decent soldiers as private enforcers, or at the very least as cannon fodder while having special operatives who could do the job with a very reduced risk of dying. That for a while UNIT had one of their own but also continued to employ field troops, was not deemed an argument.

"Sir Integra Hellsing."

"Colonel Mace. What brings you to my home?" Mace waited for Integra to sit down, but when she didn't appear to make any move to her chair he began.

"Sir, I have a question to ask in light of recent events. Is Hellsing staging a war against UNIT?"

The question took Integra by surprise, an uncommon thing. She assumed Mace was here because of the Torchwood-impersonators with Hartman too mangled by the slaughter of half her organization to ask Integra herself. The 'recent events' made her very curious.

"Despite not understanding your accusation, I will answer with 'no'. What recent events are you referring to?"

Mace didn't seem to buy it as he replied. "The Marie Zeleska and it's crew has fallen under your command, has it not?"

"Yes."

"Than you might explain it's current presence at Alderney, having detected it at the Alderney port by satellite recon, an hour after we lost all communications with the UNIT post there, the last message from that location reporting gunfire."

Integra stared at Mace for a few moments, and than retrieved one of her trademark cigars from the desk. Only after liting it, she gave an response.

"I had sent the ship along with a small detachment to carry an prisoner over to an UNIT facility on the island, having been informed by Torchwood of holding cells for extraterrestrial captives."

Mace blinked a few times in confusion, and a dark suspicion began to grow in the back of Integra's mind. Hartman, you foul bitch.

"We have no holding cells on Alderney, only temporary ones. All captives are to be brought to Torchwood Tower. But perhaps because of the attack, they're incapable of holding prisoners. Who or what was the prisoner?"

Silence reigned brief, with Sir Hellsing thinking her options before choosing one.

"…An Jabberwockfuryian."

"You mean a two-headed mercenary from the planet Coalix?"

"…Yes." She really hated a universe that was so enormous a rapid combination of two Lewis Carroll characters was still able name a specific alien race UNIT had encountered.

"Irregardless, my superiors and myself included, warn you that a taskforce is being assembled to intvestigate the matter. If your organization is discovered to be involved, than…"

Walter, who had stashed the Tylers where they could do little harm and now finally return to his master's side. decided to join in as an precaution Mace would say something radical or unwise, by moving closer to the officer as subtle intimidation. "Then what, Colonel?"

Mace made a full turn to the butler, with a expression carved from stone. "Than we will have a second chat with Sir Integra, only much shorter. And from behind bars." The intimidation tactic did not seem to be working. Alucard in that respect was a better bluffer, because he didn't bluff.

"Enough. Walter, open the door for the Colonel so he can return to UNIT and calm down their fears. And Colonel, I assure you, if my men have committed wrongs, you can depend on them being punished beyond human measures."

"I believe you, Sir. But the Tower will be sufficient. Good day." Mace nodded his cap, Integra returned the gesture, and the Colonel left the study. Walter closed the door behind him, and faced Integra with some concern. It was not like her to react so pass-"THOSE STUPID MONGRELS!"-never mind.

"Has everyone lost their mind today? Who will stir up more chaos than there already is?"

The telephone began to ring, and despite not a psychic, Integra could tell who the call was from. And despite knowing he would have nothing but bad news, to her at least, her hand reached slowly for the device and answered.

"Report."

"_The enemy has been vanquished, my mistress-_" She could use some good news. "_-along with their string puppets from UNIT._" But evidently that was too much to ask for. She looked up to Walter who had been staring through the windows, outside to watch the departing Colonel.

He could see the Colonel reaching for a mobile phone as he opened the door to his jeep, and suddenly stand still. He remained frozen for several seconds before turning around and make a hurried walk back to the manor entrance.

"_Whatever they do, don't forget you're a Hellsing, my mistress…_" The line went dead.

* * *

**Alderney, UNIT Outpost**

The priest pulled the Doctor further into the Temple, black-green corridor after another, to an destination only he seemed to know. And the Doctor did not like people knowing more than he did, especially when those people were sociopathic killers.

"So what is your plan than? Turn innocent people into your butchers, have them kill more innocent, just so you can take a tour in this ancient relic?"

"Ancient, yes. But a relic, Doctor? Come come. You know better than I do that any advanced technology can be restored. Whether for good or evil, I leave that to the historians. If there will be any left when this is over, that is." Vereker's grin, with dried-up blood covering his lips, was an unnerving sight.

Soon, they reached a room bigger than the all the others they came across, filled with large objects that could be described as primitive computers, if computers were indeed made out of green rock and black crystals. There was one in the center of the room, much grander and complex than the others, and was the very same one Vereker dragged the Doctor towards. With a movement that betrayed little of the force used to throw the Doctor against the alien machine, the priest released him and pointed towards the machinery."Fix it."

"What?" The Doctor knew what the priest was meaning, but had no intention of working with the program.

"Fix it. Or do you wish me to proceed with the threats I devised to make you comply?"

"Try me."

"That little bitch of yours. Think she is safe in London? Or her whore mother? What about all your old friends for whom I have my own friends who are just dying to meet?"

The Doctor gazed at Vereker, and for a moment the vampire could sense the infamous rage inside the man. The oncoming storm, indeed. Wonderful.

"..You must either be really stupid or have more plans regarding my friends, if you think I'd cause the death of all my friends on the motivation they will be killed by your hand instead of those present here."

"Death, Doctor? Are you so naïve to think that is the only way to make someone suffer? Nein, we are talking giving them the same gift that was handed to me and my brothers. The gift of eternal life, the gift of power beyond men, the gift that will bring them the means and the will to give in to relentless bloodlust."

"To turn my friends in the monsters that you've become?"

"Gods, Doctor. We are gods!" And from the red glow from Vereker's eyes, he really believed it. In fact, he knew he was a God. But he wasn't. Not even close to a Time Lord. The Doctor snorted at the priest's delusions, but not at his threats.

"But have relief, Doctor, in knowing you and your little blue box will have the ability to save everyone you care about on this worthless rock. Hah, might even be able to stuff some numbers into it, as I have heard of it's remarkable efficient space-usage."

How did he know about the TARDIS? Despite all his theatrics, he is nothing more than a power-drunk brute, like so many on Earth or in the rest of the universe. He must have read UNIT's archives in the facility, as I not dare to think the alternative. Luckily, those archives would only contain everything UNIT knows, not everything I know.

"…I don't have a choice do I in your view?"

"Oh yes Doctor you have, only one is far more bloody but less hard on your feelings, and the other is something you'll will regret."

"And causing the death of billions is not? "

This was by far the widest grin the Doctor had seen, that was produced by a humanoid from Earth.

"Amusing to hear objections against genocide, from you."

The room felt slightly more chill than it already was. But the Doctor only nodded and went over to the main console in silence. He pulled out the Sonic Screwdriver from his jacket, and after a dramatic pause aimed the tip at the alien controls and activated it. The tip glowed blue with a shrill sound indicating it being at work, and than stopped after a few seconds. The Doctor lowered his tool and stood still for several moments.

"…That's it?" The priest found the whole action rather different from what he predicted it would be, like a lot more action for one.

"What did you expect, a French scientist playing vocal tones?"

The vampire wanted to respond with another threat to the Time Lord's cherished ones, but events finally began to happen. The domes containing the vague humanoid shapes began to illuminate, cryogenic gasses were released with lots of noise and vapor, and an unearthly sound began to rumble through the entire structure. Dim lights sprang to life, as did the various consoles and machines that were spread throughout the temple. The Doctor was swiftly pushed away by the priest, his eyes full of amazement at the rising of an race that laid inert since the extinction of the Dinosaur.

"Yes, this is more like it. Everything I was hoping for…"

"Does that include these bullets?" Before Vereker could react, his back was perforated by 9mm, 5.45 and .357 rounds that quickly turned his torso into Swiss cheese. But being a vampire made anything less than a clean shot with something powerful or incredibly massive physical trauma unable to kill him. But it did hurt incredible, and surviving the gunfire did not prevent his kneecaps being ripped apart by the bullets and fall in his own pool of blood.

"So comes the cavalry, always too late to make their entrance more theatrical." The Doctor said with a smile to his rescuers as they shuffled their way towards him.

"Fuck you, Doctor." Revy stated while leaning against Tommy for support and who did his best to keep her up. The Russian was mumbling, not knowing if he should pass out from exhaustion or his sustained injuries through this crazy night. Only than did they seem to notice the activity going on, the temple powering up as it were and how those domes were slowly opening made them nervous. Especially when slimey claws began to extend from the growing openings.

"Doctor, what is going on!" Tommy could make a few guesses but was taught to await the opinion of experts.

"We are leaving, that's what." The Doctor held up the Screwdriver high, it making a ear-piercing electronic scream that quickly ended.

"I've signaled the TARDIS to come and collect us. It's space and time travelling abilities may have been fritzed up by that religious looney with even Barcelona out of the question, the old girl can still get to us at this distance. Or I hope so."

"Hope so?" Tommy had trouble keeping up both Revy and his weapon, and began to become really worried.

"She was past her prime and set for decommission when I acquired her, and that was nearly a thousand years ago. Not that there's anything wrong with that, saved my current and earlier hides countless times."

"It savin' our asses this one time will be enough!" The creatures began to crawl out of their pods, slow and dazed by their long sleep. It'd be only a few moments before they were awake enough to notice their 'guests'. And still the TARDIS was not showing up.

"Gha-haha-hahah!"

The high-pitched laughter was coming from the priest who had lifted himself from the floor and lay against the main console, despite having nothing below the knees and over twenty-eight bullet holes in his chest. "You cannot escape your destiny, Doctor! Today, I witness the demise of the last Time Lord!"

"If I had a banana for every time I heard that phrase...Tommy, we need to get out of this room and hope the TARDIS will reach us in time." The Doctor used his Screwdriver one more time on the main console. Sparks erupted as an response, and a unholy sound began to howler through the entire structure. The slight trembling now increased to fierce shaking as if the temple was tearing itself apart.

"Hurry now!" The Doctor lead the way out of the room with Kirill aiding Tommy to uphold Revy as they followed the alien troublesolver. Behind them, Vereker began to laugh even louder at his enemies trying to escape an evitable end. He stopped it when one of the creatures shuffled towards him, undisturbed by the rocking of the ground and walls. It was a ghastly abomination of man and reptile, still slime-covered from it's dormant rest. On it's forehead between the two sickly yellow eyes, a third began to glow red from some internal powersource. The scaly creature was joined by two others, surrounding the priest who's initial glee was fading. He long forseen this moment and knew what he should do and what should happen, but in his vision he still had the ability to run.

"I come to you as an friend, to warn you of a terrible thing. The mammals have taken over the world in your absence, the primates in fact claim rulership with primitive technology, and now plan your destruction with fire."

Vereker waited for the angry responses, the shouts of vengeance and bloody tolls to be collected on the warm-blooded apes that took their world from them. But none came, as they continued to gaze down upon him.

"They already murdered two colonies of your race, seeking them out over the world and kill every last infant to continue their own reign."

Still nothing but tenseful silence was his answer. Only more of the creatures surrounded him, making him unable to even crawl away if he wanted to. Than the largest spoke, in a low guttural voice.

"Have thisss one annihilated…and find hisss friendsss.."

"Hold on, HOLD ON! I was the one to awaken you, to warn you!"

"You have…our gratitude, primate…Now perisssh."

The third eyes of the reptilians began to radiate with a crimson fire, and Vereker had only seconds to scream against the impending end of his wretched immortality as he felt the reaches of his mind being torn apart by the psychic abilities that were inherent to this breed of the Silurian race. The process only took a few moments before Vereker stopped screaming, and than everything else as the body could not live without the mind, and the priest was not a ghoul.

"Sssummon our forcesss…prepare the basse for war…" The Silurians began to scatter, apart from a smaller specimen who advanced towards the one they designated as the leader. He brought disconcerning news

"Leader, the basse hasss being deadlocked to enage into obversssation mode…we will be ssseen!"

That gave some worry, as it put the structure into a less defendable and more obvious position that was only meant for peace time, after all the mammals have been eradicated. But despite the vulnerability it would give to their base, the Leader Silurian felt confident enough in his own ability and the disability of the humans to stop them.

"No matter…the primatesss will not ssstop usss…our rissse isss nigh!"

* * *

**Alderney Surface**

What was the result of ancient technology coming to life, felt like a massive earthquake on the island itself, as homes collapsed from the immense tremors. The waters around the island were similarly affected as waves become more frequent and higher. Onboard the Marie Zeleska, that was forced to leave port because of the gunfire and explosions had been coming awfully close. Now the freighter was rocked around by the insane conditions that no seaman has ever encountered in the English Channel.

The few jeeps that remained in the hold sliding from one bulkhead to another, crates filled with AK's and RPG's tumbling over and spilling their contents all over. A nightmare for those who would have to clean up later, it was a nightmare right now for those trying to survive. On the bridge, the captain shouted orders in the native tongue with rude words in between every sentence.

"Engines to full, shit, keep her astern, fuck, tell those assholes below to strap everything down, goddamnit! Take us on a course away from here."

"Kapitan, what about Kirill and the others!" A moment after this inquiry from the first mate, the landmass of Alderney suddenly shattered like a dome of earth coming apart.

"If they can survive that, they can survive the swim back to England."

"Kapitan, aerial contacts at five mile range. Profile signature is military, Westland WS-61 Sea King." Despite it's simple appearance, the bridge of the Marie Zeleska had an installation that would put most navies to shame with the latest and best money could buy on the fields of radar, communications, ECM and defense. That included two Kashtan weapon systems that when activated, would unleash a hellfire of 30mm rounds and missiles to anything that flew or floated. And if anyone bothered to watch the radar until now, they would have noticed the contacts before they even crossed into the Channel.

The captain preferred his own eyes to visually confirm and requested binoculars to see them approach. The waves made a steady view hard, he could still distinguish two small dots nearing across the turbulent waters. Them carrying troops or weapons did not concern him as the ship had enough firepower to squash them both in an instant, the consequences were the ones worrying him as it may unleash the wrath of the Royal Navy onto his beloved ship.

"Time to arrival?" The officer seated behind the radar did not respond. "Give me their time of arrival."

No one responded and the frantic running that was happening moments earlier had stopped. The captain dropped his binoculars and when he turned around he saw the entire bridge stand still and stare outside. Anger was almost untamable at this sudden apathy.

"Oleg , you fuckin Cossack, give me the time to….Bozhe Moi!"

* * *

**UNIT Taskforce Delta**

Frederick Thorne was an captain too, but was one in the military and commanded a field squad of UNIT's finest instead of a ship. And right now he was very displeased with his assignment, apprehending all Hellsing operatives at Alderney and investigate the loss of communications with their outpost. He disliked having to fight fellow countrymen, even those as fanatic and mysterious as those from the infamous Hellsing Organization, and knew enough of their reputation to know it two squads would only be enough if they went along peacefully. Not mention the rumours of a vampire lord in their service.

Absolute childish nonsense of course, of course, to any intelligent person. Just like robot-mummies or killer mannequins.

"Captain, we're approaching the island. ETA two minutes." The announcement by the pilot of the Sea King, it's brother following close by, had Thorne order the men to check their weapons and prepare for combat.

"Sir, we've detected a ship near the island. Appears to be a freighter." Thorne nodded, the Marie Zeleska as briefed earlier. The second Sea King would land on the deck and the second squad under Lieutenant Martin would capture it.

"Jesus Christ..Sir, the island!" As if the waves had not been a warning, the sudden collapse of the small island into several giant chunks as it broke apart was a sight unlike anything humans ever witnessed. The realization anyone on the island, the native population and the UNIT personnel was beyond saving, didn't hit at all.

"Oh my crazed uncle!"

It was ignored by the immense sense of awe, fear and shock at what was ascending from the ruins of Alderney, an dark green spire of incredible size and shape. It dwarfed any construction made by Man, and it certainly did not look it was made by Man. It rose to a height of eight-hundred metres, towering over the waters like a alien nightmare. It took minutes before Thorne snapped himself to attention and followed the rules by grabbing the co-pilot of the Sea King.

"Alert UNIT HQ and Genève, non-human structure of gigantic has just destroyed, I repeat, has just destroyed the island Alderney and presumably UNIT outpost Tourgis with it. Send all support and naval support at once." Now he directed attention to the pilot.

"Signal the other helicopter to follow us. We shall land on the Marie Zeleska, and try to find if they have any clues about this thing."

* * *

**Silurian Spire**

"Keep moving, go go go!"

The party of four ran through corridors, past closed doors and had to take an different turn every time a group of the reptilian humanoids were approaching them from the corridor they had been following. The temple, far greater than they ever expected from it's outside, was being revealed to being a gigantic maze with no way of knowing of where they were running towards, only from whom. It had been nearly an hour since escaping from their first encounter from the Silurians, and the end was still not in sight.

"These 'Silurians', what's their fuckin problem!" Revy shouted as she fired on the pursuers who fortunately did not run but still ominously shuffled after them.

"Former rulers of the planet, advanced in both technology and biology, went into hibernation during the Ice Age and are generally not pleased with the apes having taken over the planet."

"Speaking as one of those primates, Doctor...they're still making a too big of a fuss about it." Tommy had to carry most of Revy's weight as her injuries made her unable. Technically she shouldn't even be shooting, but Tommy gladly ignored that fact.

"Don't tell me about it. While I had sympathy for them at the start, trying to kill all of humanity three times have made me lose most hope for a peaceful resolution this time."

They crossed into yet another hallway, that led to a long overhead passage across some giant open space. As they ran over it, the Doctor suddenly stopped and gestured for the rest to stop, Tommy kneeled down while letting Revy rest against the railing to regain some fatigue in this short break, and looked below to what appeared to be a hangar bay.

There were thousands, tens of thousands, all lined up in formation. Unlike the other Silurians these were covered in dark-colored plating, some sort of battle armour that looked like it could take the bullets of an assault rifle head on. In their arms were large silver-colored objects that could hardly be anything else than weapons of some type. As they stood in line, Silurian officers in gold versions of the battle armour were inspecting the lines while mounted on dinosaur-like creatures that apparently served as the Silurian version of the horse.

The troops occupied two quarters of the amazing wide space, the remaining third had green vehicles shaped like manta rays in waiting, each the size of a Boeing 747.

"Silurian assault craft, they wouldn't have nose-mounted plasma disruptors on their civilian transports. They're not even planning a war, they're starting it right now." The Doctor noticed the Silurian military with a cool stare, all sorts of solutions going through his expansive mind but so far nothing viable.

"But Doctor, how did they get this militarized? Did the dinosaurs lead an revolution back in the day?" The Time Lord snorted.

"You really think alien species attacking or having ill plans for Earth in general is a recent development? And like you today, they also separated in factions for whom a difference in words was enough to start off a bloody war."

"Ha! They want a bloody war so badly, let's give them an opening shot." Revy retrieved something she had been hiding beneath her jacket, a small satchel with inside plastic-covered bricks strapped together with duct tape. Before either Tommy or the Doctor could stop her, the satchel was thrown from the passage and landed in between the Silurian warriors below. A few looked at the odd item, and than looked up to where it came from. They saw a group of primates running away, cursing, and one of them stretching her arm out while being carried away by another.

Her hand was closed to a fist with only the middle finger stretched out, and around it a strap of fabric with a safety pin at the end.

Composition C-6 was the less familiar but more potent nephew of the C4 plastique explosive, with twice the explosive power. Four strapped together, made an explosion large enough to kill ten Silurians and wounding another twenty with their armour taking the brunt of the shockwave. It was enough for the soldiers and officers alike to lose cohesion and go as a single angry mob after the cowardly primates.

"Hope you're happy!" Tommy said through clenched teeth. Her little stunt made them move twice as fast with now the heavily armored and heavily pissed Silurians after them.

"Real happy, why wouldn't I be?" They reached the next corner, and the Doctor's running slided to a halt.

"Because we're at a dead end." At the end of the corridor they reached there were no further passages, only a closed door. Turning back was out of the question as the corridor behind them was being filled by angry Silurians making their way towards them.

"Use the Screwdriver on the door!"

The Doctor shrugged as he went for the door. "Oh dear, where would I be without good ole Tommy?" A short interaction with the Screwdriver at the sides of the entrance, and the door moved away.

But instead of prolonging their escape, the door opening cut it to an early end when they saw the Silurians who had been in waiting behind it. The Doctor and his temporary Companions stumbled backwards, only to see the other end of the room being filled with Silurians who now took their time. They formed a circle around the three humans and one Time Lord who stood back to back facing their imminent deaths.

They lined up the weapons in their hands, and a gold-covered Silurian began to shout their version of "Take aim!" with now only seconds away from unleashing projectiles or energy blasts, either way there was no chance of survival.

"Oh fuck me." Revy mumbled as her head fell on Tommy's shoulder, closing her eyes and await her demise at a bunch of Scifi Channel rejects.

Suddenly the room was filled by a cyclic wheezing, groaning noise that took the Silurians by surprise, and the Doctor with hapiness. "Yes! Never will lose faith in you again, old girl."

The sound growing louder, a blue police box materialized around the four. The Silurians finally realized what was going on and opened fire, too late as the teleportation had completed and the TARDIS now protecting it's four new occupants, and being a lot more sturdier than a normal police box.

Inside, the humans who never saw the inside of an TARDIS, which was all three of them, were stunned by the sheer size of the interior. Especially Revy, a woman thought she lost all trace of childish imagination and wonder, found it near-impossible something would bring it about again. They could hear the Silurians outside screaming, their weapons trembling the ship but not even close to destroying it.

"It's…"

"Bigger on the inside, yes I know, let's move on beyond the obvious questions. The TARDIS is still damaged and can't trust it deflecting their weapons for long." The Doctor moved towards the main console and pulled a lever there and pressed a button here, and they were off.

"Where to, Doctor?" Tommy felt as being the Brigadier's grandson, he should show some confidence while in truth he was as struck by the reality of the TARDIS.

"The ship. I'd rather return to that creepy cellar but we need to stop the Silurians before they start their war."

"How?"

"No idea. Maybe they have some bright solutions on the ship."

* * *

**_Marie Zeleska_**

The Sea Kings landed with some trouble onto the main deck of the rocking ship, and the UNIT soldiers were greeted by armed sailors. Both groups were luckily reluctant to open hostilities, with the giant spire in the distance, but were also unsure about exchanging hospitalities. Finally, the ship's first mate took the first step by stepping forward and opening the conversation.

"That. Big thing. Yours?" On the other side, Captain Thorne stepped forward to reply.

"I'm afraid not. I was hoping you could explain it."

"Nyet. Doing job. Than boom. Nothing to do with it."

"What was your job?"

"Bringing passengers to place on island. Have not return. Later, one steals from cargo and also never return. Than, hour later, this shit happen. Captain very mad."

"Where's the captain?"

"Do not know. Very angry. Said he went to get Vassili Zaitsev."

Thorne felt more awkward about this whole thing, and now wished there had been a simple gun battle than dealing with the destruction of Alderney, an unknown alien structure rising from the sea and a crew of Russians who's captain has apparently gone mad.

"Now listen, we want you to turn this shi-" A sudden noise distracted Thorne and the Russian, and as they looked the TARDIS materialized right next to them to their considerable astonishment.

"What the fuck?" The First Mate commented, while Thorne's jaw dropped in awe. The door of the police box opened and the Doctor stepped outside like he did it daily. Which he did.

"Hello there Grigori. You still owe me a fiver. And UNIT, can't believe it, I'm pleased to see you lot here up and arms. Didn't bring along a big bomb, have you?"

Thorne saluted instantly despite the Doctor have no rank or name, only a incredible reputation. "Doctorcantbelievehowpleasewearetoseeyouhereandnowehavenotbroughtexplosivesbecausewethought-" The Time Lord raised his hand. "Please stop before you burn out your vocal chords. I have to tell you something but you have to restrain yourself, okay?"

Tommy and the others came out of the TARDIS, still a bit shaken by their short voyage onboard. Thorne forced himself to concentrate and make himself understandable despite shaking like a leaf.

"Yes…Doctor…do you know what is…going on?"

"Silurians. And this is not just another colony or an offshoot, it's their main army that has been awoken. They're still preparing but unless we act fast they'll send their forces, of which they got quite a lot with heavy guns, and likely lay siege to the surrounding countries. And that's the least they will do upon humanity in light of their previous attempts to annihilate you all. You understand?"

Captain Thorne was simply not trained for this sort of thing but tried to keep up.

"…Yes..what can we do?"

"Real question is, what can *you* do? Are there any aircraft carriers nearby, or a bomber wing standing on the ready. Anything that could level a city and be here in less than five minutes before they can begin the attack?"

Thorne's mind began to suffer from the weight suddenly laid upon him, but still could answer with a small "No".

"Than we're in big trouble." A loud bang and some curses made the Doctor, Thorne and the rest look up to the bridge where on top of the roof, the Captain and a sailor were setting up Vassili Zaitsev to go to work.

* * *

**Silurian Spire**

The chaos and confusion caused by the primates was quickly resolved, they were disciplined warriors after all and not shambling monsters, and the final preparations were being completed. In a orderly fashion the Silurians entered their assault craft, who soon would swarm the skies and obliterate all in their path. When they were seated and the ships prepped, a inspiritational speech was given through all their communications by the chief Silurian.

"Hear me, Sssiluriansss. Around usss are the homelandsss of the 'great human race'. I sssay to you now, the humansss are weak and worthlesss! For milleniasss we had to sssuffer their dominance, murdering usss! We ssshall ssshow no mercy today! We mussst be carnivoresss, devouring flesssh, tasssting blood! Dessstroy their civilization, crusssh them, exterminate them, kill their people to the lassst child! In the name of the Sssilurian Empire!"

His words were met with cries of bloodlust and ensured victory over the primates. He was pleased, and ordered the hanger bay doors to be opened and release their forces onto the world, and make it pure for their return. First, cleansing of everything in a thousand miles. Than there would be a popular vote on which method will be used to eradicate the primates. His own favorite would be reducing them to the Stone Age and put them in petting zoos.

But there would be time for that later, first their removal as a threat was to be done.

* * *

_**Marie Zeleska**_

Vassili Zaitsev was a ill-advised purchase done in Arkhangelsk, where the captain against better judgment acquired it from a man who wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible with no questions asked. If the man answered 'Where did you get it?' truthfully, he would have responded that he stole it from the experimental weapon research facilities in the Ukraine. On 'What is it?', he would have answered a prototype that was discarded for not being very practical nor safe, and if you would kindly shut up now and give him the money.

And after spending a year or so collecting dust in the cargo hold with the captain having been unable to sell it through to some other idiot and too reluctant to throw something he paid good money for overboard, he finally found the perfect unusual situation where the Vassili Zaitsev would be put to good use. If only the damned thing didn't have such an complicated manual. It was as thick as his fist, and filled with redirections and words and numbers that didn't tell him anything/

"Mind if I give a hand?" The Doctor had climbed up to the bridge, Tommy and Captain Thorne right behind him, and took the manual from the grateful captain's hands, looked through a few pages and than threw the whole thing overboard. "There we go."

With fast reflexes and precise timing his long thin fingers went over the weapon, that was in essence a long tube set on a tripod with a big bulb at the end. Tommy recognized it being a missile system of some kind but failed to see what good it would do. Even if they had Tomahawks they would at best cause superficial damage to the Spire that was probably made of some sort of unobtainium too. Than it hit him like a .50 round.

"Doctor, that is not what I think it is…"

"Oh, but you're wrong, or right, don't care. It's still what we need unless you have something better in your pockets. And don't start on overkill, we'll be luckily if we will manage a direct hit that will do more than give them a good shake on the inside of that spire and kill us on the outside."

"Captain!" Both the captain and Thorne turned their heads at their rank being called. It was Kirill, shouting and pointing at the Spire. "They are opening up!"

In the distance, a black hole appeared on the spire that looked like a stain on the green of the structure. The Doctor assumed it was the hangar bay they earlier visited, with the Silurians about to unleash their fleet of assault craft onto everything not Silurian. It also made a perfect opportunity for the Zaitsev to be used, if someone was able to put the warhead through a rather relatively small target, without electronic aid.

"It's always up to me to save the fuckin day, ey Tommy?" Revy managed to climb up, with the aid of a sailor who helped up onto the bridge.

"That's actually my line, but without the rude word." The Doctor said as Revy took position by the now ready launcher.

"Shut the fuck up, this shit will be hard." Seeing how the woman should be in a hospital, has gone through a night of intense fighting and running and now was only running on the last drops of adrenalin left in her veins, and had to fire a nuclear warhead with a big bulky missile launcher from a ship that barely kept itself from being swallowed by the high waves, the Time Lord kept silent when Revy's finger went slowly for the trigger in full concentration.

"Welcome to extinction, fuckers!" and squeezed the trigger.

The warhead left the launcher with a mighty boom, that knocked over the tripod and Revy aswell, and made the rest cower in primitive reflex. Apart from the Doctor, who kept an steady eye at the trail of vapor signaling it's path. It kept going, and going, crossing the miles between them and the spire in ten seconds and when it was almost there for a full second the Doctor feared it would miss and strike the spire itself and cause all the humans on the ship to be blinded , fried and radiated in seconds. He himself would regenerate and survive, but would be doing that on a sinking ship on a world soon over run by Silurians who hated all those who even looked remotely like primates.

But than the warhead entered the black mouth of the hangar bay and disappeared from sight for a few seconds, and than a new fear arose. What if it was a dud?

The deafening boom immediately disapproved that theory, and for a moment the center of the spire was radiant, giving enough warning for everyone on the ship to close their eyes and hit the deck literally. The explosion tore the hangar bay apart in a flash of nuclear light, before blasting other parts of the spire away. The nuclear warhead was a one of a relatively small yield, about the same as the Fat Man that ended World War II by ending a Japanese city. But it did enough damage to critically damage to the Silurian base own energy reactors that added in the destruction. The fires that broke out on every level were blue and green in colour, incinerating all the forces inside, before the explosions weakened the spire's structural integrity enough for it to crash on top of itself and back into the sea that spawned it.

The event, from point of impact to sinking beneath the waves as a burning carcass of Silurian might, lasted less than a minute.

The silence that followed, seemed like ages as everyone stared at the remains that soon vanished beneath the open water that used to be Alderney. Than, out of need to express a feeling one way or another, the sailors cheered and were quickly followed by the UNIT soldiers who despite knowing even less about what just happened than the sailors, joined in and shook hands. The Captain went below with the plans to drink himself to near-death, Kirill and Tommy collapsed as exhaustion and injuries finally caught up and Revy was already in a near-coma state and wouldn't be out of it for a day.

That only left the Doctor who silently stared at the waters and thinking about how many intelligent species he has wiped out in the favor of the humans, and Captain Thorne who now remembered his original mission but pondered on the circumstances having been too severe to forget it and let someone else handle it. Collection his courage, he stepped over to where the Doctor was standing and the three Hellsing operatives were recovering.

"Doctor, gentlemen. I thank you for aiding in the disposal of the threat in a effective and quick manner."

Tommy raised a thumb to show his gratitude for the words.

"But unfortunately, I will have to take you all into confinement and question your involvement in the loss of the island Alderney, it's population and the UNIT outpost."


	22. Chapter 22: The Beginning is the End

**South America**

Colonel Alfred Kempler thought he knew fear. He thought he knew it when saw it in the eyes of his enemies as a young lieutenant, from the soldiers crying for a chance to surrender to the peasants fleeing across the fields. He saw it in the eyes of the Jews lined up against that wall in Gdansk. He saw it in the eyes of his own soldiers when the Sturmoviks strafed their positions just miles outside Berlin and during the following artillery that tore them apart.

He thought he knew horror when he realized his country lost the war, and with it his claim to power, fame and escape from persecution from his victims that would come to avenge their families and loved ones.

It was not until sixty years later that he truelly knew both. First, horror, when he entered this base hidden in the dark jungle of the Amazone, and realized that the beasts were not outside but inside and all around him. Inhuman glowing eyes tracked him and the fellow commanding officers he brought along, in the hope their combined authority would garantuee their combined safety from those they once called subordinates.

That hope had already grown very thin when the zepplin arrived, back from it's journey to the Brazillian capital. Kempler had to watch the Argentinian news coverage to hear about the events over there, and only the risk of their organization being revealed to the world was enough motivation for these old crippled men to leave their comfortable haciendas, put on their worn-through uniforms and polished medals, and head out to the base they had not heard from in fifty years. Not to mention the promises of making them immortal and young again have not yet been fullfilled, and most of their comrades had already passed away to mortality.

They were respectful and hospitable when the old generals and colonels arrived, yes. But they did it with too much genuine pleasure, as if Kempler's presence was a joy. Taking care of an superior officer who was going to inspect your operation in a angry mood was never a joy. It might have been an warning, but Kempler realized it far too late as the zepplin finished docking and the Major's grand entrance began.

At the first sight of their leader emerging, the soldiers, officers, mechanics and technicians alike, rose their right arms in perfect unison and all at the exact same angle and direction. Not even the Führer himself was granted such precision adoration in his reign.

The Colonel's hands began to tremble, despite every effort to keep them under control. He could see the other officers sharing his growing discomfort but less able to express it through being confined to their wheelchairs. Not a single one of them was below eighty, and Kempler was the only one who could still stand, with the aid of a cane.

The little obese freak descended from the boarding stairs, flanked by his grey-haired bodyguard who never spoke but was more dangerous than an entire tank division, and the scientist who made Mengele look like a petting zoo vetinarian. The three of them stepped slowly past the rows of gathered troops, onwards to Kempler and the officers.

Only now, moments away from having to face the Major in person, did Kempler learn true fear. Because the freak was smiling.

"Ah, Colonel. How vas Argentina? Sunny und full of good times spent bringing up cherised memories with old comrades, I trust?"

Fear turned to anger, in a desperate attempt to keep his withered legs from caving in. He took outrage at the Major's civility, and saw it as insubordination.

"What ze hell is this, Major! On who's authority did you execute the operation in Rio!" Kempler tried his fiercest look.

The Major continued smiling, the words from his superior only adding to his amusement.

"There is simply no way of telling you that, _Colonel_." The rank was emphasized with disdain, further enraging Kempler who took steps towards the Major. "My orders are top-secret and issued personally by the late Führer himself. Vant to question his command, Colonel?"

Kempler convinced himself it was the insult, but it was fear that drove him to punch the little grinning monster in the face, who was knocked towards the stone floor.

"**Don't you dare take that attitude vith me**!" Kempler lost himself completly, ignoring the cold crimson gazes laid upon him as the Colonel used his cane to beat the downed Major with all his remaining strength.

"**Why won't you turn us into immortals**! **Why**! **WHY**! **Answer me you miserable swine**!"

A high-pitched screech came from somewhere unknown, and the cane Kempler was holding up for another strike was suddenly exploded in a fiery blaze. His hand was scorched by the heat as his walking aid exploded, and with shock turned to what caused it.

Among the ranks of the thousand soldiers, came dozens of strange machines with eyestalks illuminating blue from their visors.

"That's enough talk out of you, _Colonel_. One more childish outburst and our new friends will turn your fuckin insides into scrambled eggs." In a dark corner of the hall, Zorin Blitz was making this very plausible threat. Zorin, a six-foot tall muscular female with short hair and tattoos covering her entire body, was part of the Wërwolves. They recieved the special treatment that set them apart from the thousand soldiers, by being even more monstrous and lethal.

Soldiers took out their weapons, and a circle of guns was formed around Colonel Kempler who stood in frozen shock at this new development. The Major, who bleeded a little from the Colonel's desperate attack, stood up calm and smug.

"Major...vhat is this? What _madness_ is so great that it would require the might of a thousand vampires and these mechanical monstrosities!"

Blood dripped down from the Major's face, who stood as assured and genuinely amused as a minute earlier.

"My plan is to invoke the infinite pleasure of war...by creating one that vill never cease...my own endless krieg that will consume this world...und others thanks to my new freunden."

He stepped closer to the Colonel who shuffled backward in fear until he stood with the other officers who now were pissing themselves in fear in their wheelchairs.

"And you, meine herren, are just not ze right material I need for this. But sufficient to serve as an example. So I say to you now, tschüs!"

The Major took a step backwards, as the legion of immortals took several steps forward towards the old officers. Men who once were the elite of Germany, warriors in the planet's greatest war, and who were now crying and pleading as the stuff of nightmares approached. As the Major turned away from his former superiors, an odd sight appeared from the crowds. His appearance was one of utmost fragility and sustained hardships, which belied the ruthless and ingenius mind it possessed.

"I know the feeling, Major, as I once had to go through it on my own planet. Men of higher rank but of far far lower vision and intelligence, blind to everything that could not fit in their tiny worlds. And like you, I'd disposed of them at the earliest moment of losing their use."

Davros's scarred and decayed visage, only capable of seeing through an electronic eye mounted on his forhead and his cybernetic arm the only limb he could control, would not inspire a warm smile. But the Major did for his own reasons.

"They vill have some further use in the nearby future, but that is not your concern. Are your creations ready for a little field test?"

"Ha!" Davros snorted, which sounded uneerily through the electronic distortion that his voice given by his life-support system. "My children are ready to battle in the Time War itself! They shall come out victorious, as the supreme beings of the universe!"

The passion in the madman's voice was touching, and the Major would not press the point that if his 'children' were capable of winning that glorious conflict with certainty, they would have done so when it was waged originally.

"I applaud your confidence, but that sort of struggle vill not be the one we vill be enaging in. Not yet, that is. Have a squad ready to report with Officer Van Winkle. She vill have a assigment for zem, und be under her direct command."

Davros nodded, visibly not pleased with anyone but himself leading his children, but convinced himself it would only be temporairy. As he left, the other person in Millenium who considred himself a genius approached the Major, looking with disgust at the departing handicapped maniac. The Captain remained without an opinion or an expression that betrayed his feelings.

"He cannot be trusted. The sooner ve get rid of him and his abominations the better."

"Have faith, Doktor. His contribution will significant for our goals. As long as it lasts that is. Now, before we start off that vill be my greatest accomplishment and joy, we need to contact our other friends and make sure they know when to strike. It vould be a terrible shame if they spoil our grand return."

* * *

**Westminster Palace, England**

In light of recent events, the Convention of Twelve had called for a meeting to define this new threat that has risen, and discuss the internal strives that were beginning to look like a civil war between the Hellsing Organization, the Torchwood Institute and the British contingent of UNIT. While actual actions have not yet been made, Iscariot was also invited, as with Torchwood crippled, Hellsing on house-arrest and UNIT have other duties than just England, they would need all the help they could get. When the Queen announced her own entry to this gathering to settle the differences, there were few places more appropiate than the palace at the Thames.

Angry accusations, sweet-tongued allusions and silent treatments were thrown around in the last few days after the Alderney Incident that created gigantic hysterial outcries in the public and media. Ironically, the Convention of Twelve welcomed the distractions as they diverted any attention to the fact an unknown enemy was sending vampires and ghouls to destroy the foundations that had protected Great Britain for centuries.

While those present awaited the arrival of certain operatives with new information regarding the situation, heated words were already flying back and forth over other matters.

"As I have told you before, Torchwood has misled us." Integra had Walter and Balalaika with her, both having proven to be more dependable than the two responsible for the current strife and who had been suspended and ordered to stay at the manor.

"How dare you to accuse me and my organization with lies, after the losses we have sustained." Hartman replied with much acted offense, Rajesh Singh nodding in agreement and Jack Harkness sighing.

"Those apparently did not teach you humility or common sense. Let alone a sense of honour."

"Sir Hellsing, while Torchwood may have some involvement in this they cannot be blamed for the destruction of Alderney as it were operatives of your own organization who were present when the vampire awakend the Silurian colony present there and nearly caused an invasion force to have been launched." UNIT was represented by Colonel Mace, accompnied by Captains Price and Magambo. Word was that an higher ranked officer would arrive from Geneva at a later time.

"The same invasion force that has been stopped by our operatives who also took care of the vampire threat."

"That still did not prevent the hundreds that died because of the vampire's plans, whom's attack we find suspicious to begin with, with no history of them being involved with our operations or with that of Torchwood. Nor are we pleased to have been lied to over the presence of the Doctor. Which includes you, Director Hartman."

"I can explai-" Hartman's explanation why she had lied to Integra over the Doctor needing to be brought to Alderney was interrupted by Enrico Maxwell, accompnied by his bodyguard Heinkel and servant Renaldo, slamming his fists on the table. It was suprising since one would expect the Iscariots taking joy out of the British pagans fighting amongst themselves.

"I had enough! Like children, you bicker who's to blame, who's to be the scapegoat! Settle your differences and focus on the threat at hand before it will devour us all."

At that same moment, the doors leading to the great hall opened with a force beyond human, without being touched at all. In the opening stood the dreaded puppet of Hellsing, Alucard, and with him the newly turned vampire Seras Victoria who stood nervously facing this crowd of important people and the recently hired mercenary Captain Bernadotte who looked like he had dressed for a Sunday of lazing around than attending a high-level meeting.

"We have returned to you, my master."

Integra smiled, and replied. "Well executed, my servant."

Before she could give him further orders she was suprised and than angered by the thin lanky man in the pinstripe suit who walked past Alucard and looked with a grin at those present.

"Now times must indeed be dire, if the Vatican becomes the sole voice of reason."

Hartman and the UNIT representatives stood aghast at the legend, Enrico and Integra annoyed at his irritating presence disturbing this meeting. The Doctor went along the table, most who were seated wondering who the hell this idiot was supposed to be.

"Ah, UNIT. Always a new face when we meet, never the old ones. Just like me, I suppose." Colonel Mace stood up, mumbling as he tried to greet the famous hero that saved Earth countless times, but the Doctor moved on to Hartman who gave him her warmest smile. He however did not return it.

"Yvonne Hartman. I heard about you. In charge of Torchwood."

"That is correct, Doctor. And you cannot imagine how pleased we all are to have you here today."

"Pleased enough to not shoot me in the back if I tried to leave, I hope?" The Doctor walked away while leaving behind Hartman confused, and giving a nod to Harkness who gave a slight chuckle at the Time Lord's ability to hold an grudge. Integra had enough of this nonsense and got things going.

"Alucard. The Queen awaits you. Remove your glasses." With an smirk, the vampire took off his orange-tinted sunglasses and began to walk towards the back of the hall where a small throne stood with a smaller person seated.

A pair of agents from MI5 quickly but very unwisely stepped into Alucard's path, to prevent him from getting near to the Queen. While the vampire was quite capable of tearing both men apart like wet tissue paper, at his highest restraint, he merely blinked. The agents were thrown away by an invisible force, knocking them out when they hit the floor, and Alucard continued his steps until he stood in front of the throne.

Everyone at the meeting table and those standing nearby silently watched as Alucard waited for the Queen to adress him.

"It has been a very long time, vampire. Come closer and let me look at you."

Alucard obeyed, moving closer and kneeling down before her. The Queen's withered hands moved forward and slowly caressed Alucard's pale face.

"All these years...and you haven't aged a day, Alucard. Unfortunately, time's march has not been as kind for me. Can you believe how quickly I became this old woman?"

Alucard smiled. "I still see the same spirited young woman I met fifty years ago, your Majesty. To me, time has only graced your beauty as an example of how precious mortality is, your Highness."

The Queen softly chuckled at the vampire's compliments, his personality not having changed along with his appearance. Her eyes drifted away from Alucard and directed them towards the Doctor.

"And I'm not the only one who has changed, for as I understand you are the Doctor, but not the man I've met two years ago at Balmoral Castle."

Nearly half the occupants in the hall raised an eyebrow, with several 'what?'s, the loudest coming from the Doctor himself.

"You were considerably older that time, with a different face, hair and costume. Particulary rude too, even when you were saving me from those 'Snow Soldiers' as you called them."

The Doctor, intrigued, drew closer, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the agents. "I believe you are referring to Ice Warriors, your Majesty, but I've never encountered them. Not in this age or that place, at least. That means you've encountered one of my future regenerations who travel to that moment in time and space to encounter you and-"

"Fascinating Doctor, but like your 'future regeneration', I do not wish to bothered by technical explanations. Vampire, proceed with your report on the situation for the present company."

Alucar nodded and turned to face the assembled, one of which being stumped by being interrupted in the middle of an explanation on Time Lord physiology.

"Sixty years, a deranged SS officer attempted to breed an army of vampires within a facility in Poland. Walter and I, along with the Doctor in an different form, laid waste to their operations."

"Yeah, that occured during my jelly-bean phase as I prefer to call it that." An glare from Integra Hellsing made the Time Lord be silent, because he knew she would grab for her gun next.

"..However, they simply refused to die. They've escaped the Nazi downfall, replenished their numbers in the last six decades, and are now ready to restart the great war once more. Thát is what Millennium truelly is, the last and most dangerous relic of the Third Reich."

The information brought about some activity, some shocked, some feeling confident in their ability to deal with some ancient Nazis, one not even believing an organization like that being a threat to Great Britain at all and it all being a deception from the Hellsing Organization to explain their actions. Before discussion could fully break out, a child-like voice interrupted them from the other side of the room.

"I see Mr Alhambra's blood must have given us away. The Major definately made an mistake by entrusting that fool."

Where moments earlier stood nothing, now had a boy with blonde hair standing with a smug smile. He wore a tan Hitlerjugend uniform with short pants, but the most appearing feature were the boy's unnatural cat ears sticking out from beneath the hair.

Heinkel, Bernadotte, Jack and Mace, unholstered and aimed their sidearms at the boy, who appeared unintimidated and held up his arms as a non-hostile gesture. "Wooo there cowboys, I'm just ze messenger, not seeking a fight vith anyone." The boy walked over to the table, while still held under aim.

"Could someone explain how this brat got past our security!" Hartman called out, the sudden appearance without explanation unnerving her the most of everyone in the room.

"It's useless against me. I'm everywhere, and nowhere." The smug and vague reply came after the boy placed a device with an viewscreen upon the table.

"He means he's in a state of constant quantum-flux, a living violating of the laws of physics. The feline features were likely added as a genetic joke and referenced to a human theory about quantum fluctations. Whoever created you, is a monster."

The boy looked suprised, but than gave the Doctor his widest smile, revealing his cat-like fangs. "Danke! My creator would be quite pleased with that remark." He turned away from the Doctor to face the table.

"To ze gathered representatives of the Vatican, United Nations and Great-Britain, my commander, the glorious Major, has a message for all of you. Please pay attention."

The boy took out a black remote, aiming it at the small viewscreen before pressing the one button. And again, and again when the viewscreen failed to respond. Eventually it began to emit sound, and than a voice.

"Vhat is this? There's no picture! Warrant Officer Schrödinger, the screen is not working!" In the background of the transmission, screams and pleas were loudly emitted, a high-pitched voice begging the Major to stop this insanity.

"Wait, hold on, there!"The viewscreen lit up, and after some static there was suddenly a clear image.

Of bodies having been torn apart by what seemed to be savage beasts. Removed internal organs and severed limbs filled the screen in a sea of blood. The various members at the table reacted with shock, disgust and concern. Schrödinger reacted with amusement. "Major, you seem to have your hands full over there."

"No, no, things are quite well. It feels like a cumbersome weight has finally lift from my shoulders, I'm feeling FANTASTIC in fact."

Alucard moved over to the viewscreen, and the only one as amused as Schrödinger and the Major. "Hello, Major."

"Alucard! I'm so thrilled to see you again! It's really been far too long since the last time ve tried to kill each other!" The vampire responded with a hearty laughter, genuinely enjoying the reunion with an old enemy as he didn't have many.

Integra had no patience for this 'nostalgic' nonsense and came to the point before anyone else did. "What is it want you...Major."

"Ah...finally face to face with Sir Integra Hellsing herself, a true pleasure to meet you. An Hellsing is always a terrific opponent!" Yvonne Hartman, now seeing the face of the one who ordered the attack on her Torchwood Tower took over the questioning.

"What is your goal, what are you trying to accomplish with assaulting Torchwood, answer ME!"

"..Goal? What a very silly question my beautiful Fräulein. Goal..heh..how peculiar...to put it in the simplest possible terms, Fräulein Hartman, our goal is ze total lack of one!"

In the background of the viewscreen, the last living human made muffled screams as the Millennium vampires descended upon him.

"You should know, Fräulein, that there are some people in this world who do not care for riches or power. I speak of course, of myself." The Major snapped his fingers, and the vampires start their feast with fangs and claws. Usually they would be fine with taking his blood and a leg, but they had orders to prevent the former 'superiors' from turning into ghouls, so they left nothing to return from the dead.

The representatives were forced to watch how Colonel Alfred Kempler of the SS was shredded to pieces, the sight even shocking grizzled war veterans like Bernadotte and Harkness. Schrödinger on the opposite acted like a giggly schoolgirl, enjoying the carnage. It turned once more to Enrico Maxwell to break the ice.

"You're insane, all of you."

"Did...did I just hear someone from Iscariot question _my_ sanity? If your God allows me to do as I please, wouldn't he be on my side rather than yours? Vhich begs the question of who is truelly the insane one, nicht wahr?"

Enrico nearly choked on the Major's blasphemy, but the Nazi officer did not allow him to reply. "Ve are the elite of the Third Reich's might. Do you Judas priests have any idea how many people we've killed! But neve mind you, Iscariot is but an minor obstacle. Our true enemies reside in Britain."

"Torchwood shall vanquish you from the face of the Earth!" Hartman screamed, assuming the maniacs were after her organization.

"Ach Fräulein, do not make me laugh. Torchwood is an joke, und so is your UNIT forces. Our nemesis is not even the Hellsing organization itself, it represents only a wall of meat that is between us and them. Alucard...and the Doctor!"

"Really, why's that?" The Doctor was a bit suprised by the revelation, as his expierences with the Major had been very limited last time they've met. Mostly running away on the Doctor's part, and ordering the guards to shoot him on the Major's part. The nazi officer just smiled, and had the camera move away from the massacre to a more even grisly sight.

"Good to see you again, Doctor. You do not have the face I remembered, but that is true of all our encounters. Always a new form, but...the arrogance persists!"

The table fell quiet, as while the new talker was a nausating sight, it was a improvement on the horrifying slaughter of a few moments ago. And yet it caused something within the Time Lord only a very few have ever witnessed over nine-hundred and fifty-three years. Paralyzing fear taking control.

"Do you have nothing to say? Does my appearance cause you cold shivers of panic ring down your spine? It should."

"Doctor!" Integra nor anyone else recognized the man, only Harkness had a growing suspicion. For all his talk the Doctor was someone not easily frightend, not even by Alucard. And now he stood terrified of something that was the shameful remains of a being.

"Doctor, who is this?"

"I, Miss Hellsing, am the last survivor of Skaro and the Kaled Race. I am Davros, Lord and Creator of the ultimate forms of life, the Daleks!"

As if they waited for a cue, the metallic creatures of death flanked their master, their eyestalks whirling towards the viewscreen and staring at those on the other side of the connection with eyepieces that radiated a cold blue.

"MALES REGISTERED AS EN-EMIES! THE DOC-TOR AND ALU-CARD! THEY ARE TO BE EXTERMINATED! EXTERMINATE!"

While Davros's appearance was not recognized by Torchwood or UNIT, his name was, and especially his creations were a well documented and expierenced terror. Their silent panic and cold sweat infected the table, even Enrico and Integra felt that these Daleks were dangerous, even more than vampires. Than something broke through the tension, something as unreal as laughter. The vampire could not control himself, his maniac cackling growing higher in volume and pitch until it became inhuman.

"A declaration to a total war…**Excellent**! I can't **wait** to destroy you and your mongrel pets once more!"

The camera turned away from the Daleks, and the Major's confident smile was brought into view. "No matter how many times you and the Doctor attempt to destroy us, we vill return again, and again, and again, for this will be an ultimate war vith no end!"

Integra had enough. "Alucard. Seras. Kill him."

The warrant officer Schrödinger was taken by suprise by the sudden sensation of an 454. Casuall being pressed into his mouth, having only a second to registrate the feeling before Alucard pulled the trigger and blew away the entire catboy's head apart like a rotten pumpkin, blood and brains spread over the floor.

"Fine, shoot the messenger. Ve look forward to meeting you on ze glorious und bloody battlefield that awaits us all. My freunden, Auf wiedersehen!"

The viewscreen was blown apart with a three-round burst of .50 calibre, delivered with inhuman accuracy by Seras Victoria, vampire-trainee. And who was the first to notice the lack of a headless corpse. Everyone was suddenly more disturbed by the missing of Schrödinger than his violent death, to the Doctor's annoyance. Enrico in particular was disturbed.

"Where did the freak go!"

"Like the name says, he is an living Schrödinger's cat. He was here, but wasn't here at the same time. He got shot in the head without warning, and than at the same moment he wasn't. Difficult to explain, and too difficult to maintain for anything but a experiment. Just one lapse of concentration, and he would be gone from existence because he would be nowhere."

Enrico looked at the Doctor as someone who clearly didn't get quantum physics as kindergarten education. Meanwhile, Hartman and Colonel Mace were discussing something with Sir Penwood in a soft muffled tone with the Torchwood director talking into a mobilephone, before the Queen announced her plans and forced the representatives to pay attention. She had remained in the shadows, even during the confrontation with Schrödinger and his masters. It was up to her, how the situation would be dealt with.

"Alucard. Sir Integra."

The vampire and his mistress turned to the Queen, who gave her final orders.

"These are your orders. Search and destroy."


	23. Chapter 23: Valiant Troubles

**Westminster Palace, England**

With the Queen's commands given, Sir Islands considered the Convention of Twelve to be adjourned. The members and guests packed up their files and notes, most of them grateful for someone else their own organizations to be responsible for an eventual fuckup, and began leaving the building.

While Integra gathered her servants and began her journey home, she noticed Sir Islands was approached by an assistant who told him something urgent by the sight but left without inquiring. Good thing it was in the middle of the night when Westminster Palace was used for the meeting, as goverment officials would look up from her present company, including a burn-scarred blonde woman and a long-haired slacker with an eye-patch, not to mention the tall dangerous-looking man in the red trenchcoat. They made the thin man in the pinstripe suit look normal as he walked alongside them unwillingly, as his means of transportation was still in their basement.

"Sir Integra, may we have a word." the Hellsing heir and her party of six, stopped and turned to face an different group coming their way.

Yvonne Hartman, Dr Singh, Colonel Mace and his two UNIT aides were approaching Integra. Jack Harkness left for Cardiff minutes ago, not wanting to get involved with Torchwood One's dealings. She grew a bit concerned about a Torchwood-UNIT alliance, as together they would have both the influence and the resources to make life very difficult for the Hellsing organization.

"Director. Colonel." Integra awaited their schemes.

"Sir Hellsing, as of now Torchwood and UNIT will be taking over your handling of the Millennium situation. Consider yourself and your personnel dismissed."

She took the news with an minor frown. "Perhaps it wasn't made clear to you a few minutes ago, but the Queen requested myself and Alucard to eliminate the threat the Major and his allies represent to England. Unless you wish Sir Islands to get involved and teach you where your place is, I would cease this nonsense."

"I'm afraid, Sir Integra, that this matter has been taken out of the Queen's hands, to my regret."

Sir Islands and a stranger who shared his age, came forward. The leader of the Convention of Twelve and second only to the Queen, had a irritated look. The man next to him appeared to be in retirement, with the look of a jolly bearded grandfather with his tweed jacket and flat cap. There was something familair about him, and slowly a name to go with the face began to rise in the depths of Integra's memory.

"Brigadier! Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart! You old soldier dog you, it's been far too long!" With a grin that nearly severed his face, the Doctor sprinted towards the Brigadier who looked suprised for a moment, but than gave a warm smile in return.

"Doctor. Heard you were around, but was hoping in a form I would still recognize, which is apparently not the case. And seeing how young you are now, makes me feel my own age more." The Doctor gave the Brigadier a fierce handshake.

"Aw come on, when you reached the age of 953, _than_ you'll know what being old is really like. How have you been? Not wearing an uniform I see."

"Fine Doctor, truelly fine. I indeed retired from the service, but have remained with UNIT as a special envoy with missions across the globe. One as important as today, however, is the first time since we both fought Morgaine and the Destroyer."

"As touching as your little reunion is, I still demand to know why the Hellsing Organization relieved from it's mission." Integra was neither intimidated by his reputation or comforted by the Brigadier's unthreatening appearance.

"Very well, if you wish to be direct than I shall return the favour. UNIT will be dealing with this new threat on two grounds. For one, they assaulted Torchwood Tower, which very likely meant they were after the alien technology stored there, an theory also supported by Ms Hartman." The Brigadier didn't seem too convinced of Hartman's claim.

"But our greatest concern is the presence of Davros and his Daleks. As the Doctor can confirm, they represent an unimaginable threat to Earth and even the universe itself. The situation has simply grown beyond Hellsing's or even Britain's jurisdiction. It has become a threat to humanity, and UNIT is responsible for it's safety."

The two leaders stared of, both acknowledging the truth but also the pride issues that would work against each other. To preserve Integra's, the Brigadier continued.

"It is also an matter of practical concern, as Torchwood has located the source of the broadcast." The Hellsing party looked up with great interest. "Tracing the signal through sattelite tracking of the feed, we've discovered Millennium is operating from a location within the Amazone region. Which would require your...agent to travel by airplane to a country where a death warrant is on his head, and our Brazillian branch has not forgotten the deaths of dozens of their staff, even if they had been misled by bribed superiors who 'unfortunately' died before investigations could prove those accusations by the Hellsing Organization to be true.."

Integra felt a very slight sense of embarassment, perhaps even shame at what she allowed Alucard to commit that night. But she believed Millennium would only have continued sending human minions to die if they knew Hellsing was to avoid any human casualties, so her choice of letting the vampire loose onto the Brazillian UNIT forces was justified. That was her conviction.

"But even if you managed to get him into the country, there is no garantuee he would make it in time or succesfully destroy the Daleks."

"So if Alucard is not up to the task, what will?" Before the meeting, 'Daleks' sounded like another cheap imagination conjured by the Doctor. But seeing them for real, even in a remote broadcast and sensing the dread they caused in powerful men who had a lifetime of expierence, made Integra agree to them being an severe threat, though she had confidence in Alucard still being the single most dangerous thing to ever walk this planet.

"Normally I would ask for the Doctor's assistance regarding such an dangerous foe as Davros-" The Doctor smiled at his expertise being acknowledged. "-But without the TARDIS operating he is similairly disabled. Therefor, the Valiant will receive orders to move to the target and annihilate the site completly. This can and will be done in less than four hours."

"The Valiant?" One of the thing he both admired and disliked about humans that they often came with suprises, nice and terrible ones. Some times it was the hula hoop, some times it was VX toxin gas.

"Trust me Doctor, we have not been sitting idle in these last few years. The end result of combining several breakthrough technologies, with the assistance of Torchwood and the British Ministry of Defense, the Valiant is the newest means of defense against humanity's enemies, foreign and domestic. It is an aerial carrier ship, the first of it's kind with VTOL engines that can suspend the vessel at great heights indefintely, manned by a crew of hundreds with room for thousands, and carries a incredible-"

The Brigadier's speech, showing his pride of the Valiant that likely had him involved heavily, was interrupted by Colonel Mace. "All due respect, Brigadier-General, it is best not to give too much details to non-associated civillians." Mace clearly meant the Hellsing people, but could include an alien like the Doctor who in the past disagreed with UNIT and the British goverment on decisions. They remembered what he did to Harriet Jones with only six words. And so did the Brigadier, who's feelings of reunion had faded enough to be more strict against his old friend.

"In any case, the Valiant will be up to the task. It's current location is above the Atlantic ocean, heading for Brazillian airspace with permission of the United Nations. It's weapons will preform a full strike on the enemy's location and eliminate their threat, and this will all be over in a few hours. Certainly sounds like an better idea than sending a creature of the night and have it take out the Daleks by hand."

"Well, it does indeed sound less messy. But it still shares the same flaw."

"Which is?"

"Not involving me going along. None of you have any idea what the presence of Davros means. Someone escaping from a timelocked event in which I clearly remembered him dying. Not only does that mean he's become more dangerous than he was already was, it also means others could have escaped."

"More Daleks?" The question came from Integra, who preferred dealing with vampires.

"Possibly. It could also mean other Time Lords."

"..But that would be a good thing, right Doctor?" Hartman joined in, thrilled at the prospect of more sources of knowledge.

"Not all of my people were as interested in the well-being of others. To be truthful, most were indifferent regarding anything smaller than a star system. And some were considerably worse..most of them starting with an 'M' oddily enough."

"I'm sorry Doctor, but while sharing your fear in the return of one fiendish fellow, the order has already been given and the Valiant is on it's way. I'd of course would advise against you using the TARDIS, but from what I am told the old girl has suffered some damage. Like old times."

"The TARDIS wasn't broken in those days, Brigadier. And the Time Lords themselves being involved in it's disuse is an less embarassing cause than a priest with a knife fetish. I do hope for this planet's sake this action will work. You'll be deciding the fate of the universe today."

While the men talked of things she'd thought to be the stuff of Saturday entertainment, aliens and Time Lords, Seras was being distracted by an sensation that felt unnatural and chilling. She felt like she was being watched by cold soulless eyes, and they weren't Master's. In fact, even with her above human senses she could not detect the source of the feeling, and views given to her by those in the room were mostly short glances from the males, indecently aimed at her torso. When she couldn't take it she turned to her Master.

"Master, I..."

"-Feel as if inhuman eyes are probing every inch of your body with malicious intentions. Yes, wonderful, isn't it? Not knowing who or where, it only promises an opponent of power and skill. _Finally_, there may be someone else than the fat Nazi officer to wage war against, and yes, even be suitable to kill me. These are the good days, and full of carnage and suffering they shall be..oh yes."

Seras sighed, asking herself one more time if the decision to have Master turn her into his ilk, was less rational than accepting an merciful death. The parties had finally spoken their words and began to depart, in different directions and intentions. The corridor quickly emptied and within minutes the palace was resigned to it's usual nocturnal silence that would last until dawn. Long before that happend, dim shapes began to phase through the corridors, having stood only metres away from the conversation. If caught by human eyes, they would be called ghosts, and originally, that was the intention. But plans changed, and so did their orders until the hour upon they would emerge and remove all aggresive elements.

* * *

**South America**

Deep within the bowels of the ancient base, monsters in various form walked the hallway leading to the central command center from which they would proceed their insane plans. The Captain and Dok walked behind the Major and Davros, a sneer prominent on the Dok's face as his eyes followed the arrogant genius from Skaro. The Captain as usual gave no hint of his emotions, and the Major was outright cheerful.

"Major, you would think it was wise to reveal our presence before our plans come to realization? The Doctor is a serious pest, and his human allies have proven to be troublesome opponents despite their inferiority."

"Are you...terrified of zem? Are you doubting the capability of your own children, against those of Earth?" The tone was playful, but Davros had no concept of 'playfulness'.

"**How dare you! Greater men have suffered dearly for such insults! I would have my Daleks eradicate this base from the face of the earth!**" Davros's rage was unlike any in the universe.

Dok grew nervous, as an scientist he never developed a liking or understanding of combat that was surely soon to follow. The Captain as a bodyguard should be responding to this threat, but remained as still as ever. The Major laughed, heartily. "Ach good, I was afraid you lost your passion. Excellent, let us continue."

The genius was left confused as the Major and his subordinates walked on. He quickly followed in his mobile lifesupport chair, his massive intellect not sure on wether he has been insulted or complimented in the end. The central command center was an enormous circular space, the walls covered in viewscreens that displayed geographic maps and positions of military installations throughout the world. Most occupants were officers in Millenium, who raised their right arms in the old salute at the sight of their leader, with a handful of the white-gold painted Daleks turning to face theirs. A chair attached to an metallic arm raised high above the ground, lowered itself and revealed someone whom should not be expected to be here, or alive.

"You're so _slow_. In the time you and Herr Robocripple took to walk down a little hallway, I got my head blown off in England and got back here. Maybe you should consider going on a diet."

"Hahaha, I'm afraid I can't do that."

Of all his subjects, the Major considered Schrödinger to be his favourite. While insanity was common in Millenium, he and the catboy shared a similair one. Seeing the funny side of death, with both incapable of dying by convential means. Dok was shocked by the catboy's attitude and grabbed him by the neck like a naughty kitten.

"Show more respect to your superiors, Warrant Officer Schrödinger!"

"It is alright, Dokter. The Warrant Officer succeeded in his mission."

Schrödinger smiled mockingly when his creator was forced to let him go without punishment for his insolence, very much against his will. The Major took his seat upon the chair, taking a moment to enjoy the breath before the irreversible plunge. He could almost hear the sound of drums, a foreboding rhythm to the battle that awaits.

In the remote jungle of the Amazone, local wildlife was disturbed and scared off by the sudden trembling of the surface. Giant gaps in the earth appeared as the hangarbay doors were being opened. Orders to launch were shouted, men ran to their stations and doors were shut. The captains of Millenium's transports gave the commands to prepare for departure. Material and manpower were accounted and all exits were closed. Engines were fired up and flaps moved into position. The docking clamps that restrained the zepplins were released with mechanical groans, and within minutes the three seperate balloon ships ascended to the sky.

_Deus ex Machina_, and it's two smaller sister ships _Graf Zeppelin II_ and _Hindenburg II_ began their long journey towards their final target. Within the command center with everyone distracted by the glorious, no one noticed the small blip on the viewscreen wall approaching a much larger blip, with the title Valiant.

* * *

**UNCS _Valiant_**

Hovering above the Southern Atlantic as a sky fortress that span a thousand metres and more in sheer length and with a arsenal rivaling that of most nations, it was still a suprise a contact without an proper identification heading for their direction with a speed and angle that would indictate unauthorized landing. Or an enemy attack, both possibilites thought profoundly ridiculous.

* * *

'_Heute wollen wir ein Liedlein singen,_

_Trinken wollen wir den kühlen Wein..._'

* * *

On the bridge, that doubled as a conference room for UNIT high-rankers or the leaders of nations, no panic errupted and with almost mocking calmness crewmembers attended to their stations and sent warning messages to the incoming contact. By the time the third and final warning came, the contact was close enough for a sensor sweep. It was an Eurocopter NH90 tactical transport helicopter, with no transponder signal or IFF. When it came close enough for visual identification, it appeared to not even have any official markings or registration.

To the commanding officer of the Valiant, General Kapoor of the Indian UNIT branch, it became obvious that whoever was flying the transport had hostile intentions. He considered allowing it to land and have security teams secure the passengers for questioning, but they could be carrying a bomb for all they knew. Or be living weapons themselves.

* * *

'_Und die Gläser sollen dazu klingen,_

_Denn es muß, es muß geschieden sein..._'

* * *

"Weapons Control, lock CWIS onto unknown contact and open fire." It'd be a matter of seconds before the 30mm Goalkeepers removed the possible threat and Kapoor to return to his lunch.

"Belay that."

Kapoor and most of the bridge crew turned to the second-in-command who just arrived on the bridge, Commander Tweedy of the Royal Navy, who had been mostly absent from the crew ever since returning from his appointment with a doctor in Rio de Janeiro. They knew him as a grim and deadly serious individual, so the wide grin he was making was rather unusual. His whole appearance seemed a bit stranger, pale skin and bloodshot eyes.

* * *

'_Gib' mir deine Hand, deine weiße Hand..._'

* * *

_Oh my god....the man is on drugs_. Kapoor realized with a shock. While totally inappropiate for an officer on such an esteemed vessel as the Valiant to be using narcotics, Kapoor prevented himself from making a smile at Tweedy who normally did not even smoke or drank. If he could make him leave the bridge quick enough and report to sickbay, Tweedy might not receive a court martial.

"Commander, are you feeling alright?"

"Never better blacky!" The high-pitched remark brought silence to the bridge who all stared at Tweedy still grinning like a madman. Now a court martial was unavoidable to Kapoor who nodded to a crewmember.

"Inform Security to send a detail to the bridge to detain Commander Tweedy for insulting an superior officer and bring him to the brig." Kapoor turned back to the radar to focus on the more important and less offensive situation.

"I think would you would be better off asking for a cleaning crew." Tweedy removed his officer cap and the extensive grin revealed an sinister revelation to the sudden astonished crew. Their expressions made the General turn back to Tweedy, but before Kapoor could respond his XO made an inhuman leap through the air and sank his shark-like teeth into the officer's neck, and rip it away with one bite. Kapoor's blood was splashed across the bridge, covering the nearby consoles.

A single crewmember not overtaken by shock and suprise slammed his hand down on the emergency button that alerted security of intruders, a moment before the hand was grabbed and along with the arm pulled off from it's socket. The crewmember screamed at the agony, before a closed fist removed his head from the torso sending it flying through the bridge's windows. The assailant, an ordinary crewmember with the same eyes as Tweedy's that now glowed red, was joined by another who together with the Commander turned the bridge into a slaughterhouse that painted the walls, windows and stations with gallons of the crimson liquid.

* * *

'_Leb' wohl, mein Schatz, leb' wohl mein Schatz,_

_Leb' wohl, lebe wohl..._'

* * *

Not that far away, men in black BDU's and red berets were trampling the corridors, wielding assault rifles and shotguns, as alarm sirenes echoed and red LED's blinked on through out the ship. The lieutenant in charge had little info on what was happening on the bridge, but it was certainly not good.

They were nearly there, when they stopped to face the two soldiers assigned to bridge duty this very day. But instead of being there, stopping whatever attack was taking place, they were _gorging_ themselves. On crewmembers. One of them had his face pressed into the shredded remains of a man's throat, and was biting and chewing like some wild beasts. The other soldier rose from his victim while smearing the blood off his chin, and looked up to the lieutenant, who's troops who aimed their weapons at the two monsters. The soldier tapped his comrade on the shoulder, who stopped feasting and glared at the newcomers with the same red glowing orbs that used to be human eyes.

"Hey Ken, looks like the cavalry arrived." There was a inhuman depth to the voice.

"Good. I was almost finished with this one..._and I'm still hungry!_" The soldier-turned-vampire dropped the carcas, and began moving with the speed of sound towards his newest prey.

"Open fire!" The lieutenant and his men unloaded their weapons at the two vampires, who became vague blurs and approached with sickeningly speed. Concentrated gunfire tore off the arm of one of them, but it barely slowed him down, and his other arm was sufficient for ramming it through the lieutenant's face, the fist erupting from the back of the skull. The other vampire used his claws to rip out a soldier's throat, and backhand another who was hit with so much force his spine snapped on impact against the bulkhead. The security detail was cut down in an eye blink.

The vampires howled as the beasts they were, one even ignoring the bloody stump that was his right arm, unleashing their most primal nature with all civilization and ethics removed entirely. Than the search for more warm flesh and blood continued.

All over the Valiant, the agents that Millennium planted within UNIT long before announcing it's existence began their part in butchering their fellow crewmembers. What was contained to the bridge now happend in the messhall, the sleeping quarters, the armoury, the flightdecks and hangers, and the many hallways and corridors on the gigantic ship. And the vampires were only the start, as soon the dead began to rise, as ghouls. The few security details who had the premature fortune of not fighting their traitor collagues, were overwhelmed by the hordes of mindless scavengers who did not fall down no matter how many bullets ripped their bodies apart. Within minutes the crew of thousands was being reduced to an bare handful who's death was literally around any corner.

* * *

"_...Denn wir fahren, denn wir fahren,_

_Denn wir fahren gegen Engeland, Engeland._'

While the internal carnage took place, on the flight deck the helicopter had finally arrived and began landing. Inside the vehicle, a female covered in the shadows was finishing the loading of her antique musket that was kept in prime condition. No one asked her why she brought along such an ancient and ineffective-seeming weapon along. They all knew why.

As the helicopter touched down and powered down it's engines, out came Rip van Winkle, Obersturmführer, better known as First Lieutenant in the modern Western world, of the Letze Battalion. Her high rank allowed her to dress casual, as if the long raven hair and the small round glasses made it hard for strangers to believe she was a soldier. An extremely deadly soldier. She glanced around the vast and abandoned space of the flight deck that could house a fleet of 747's, and smiled.

"Und so I have acquired a pretty flying ship. Hah! Tinkerer tailor, soldier sailor. My bullet punishes all vithout distinction. " She let the musket rest on her shoulders.

Behind her, a small crowd silently approached. All of them were covered in blood, and most of it was not their own. A few shown battle damage, a missing eye or limb, perforated chests and massive burn marks. But all had the same red shark grin. At the head of the group was Commander Tweedy, who's uniform had the least signs of the carnage they just departed from.

"Welcome aboard the UNIT Carrier Ship Valiant, Madam. The ship and it's...crew are at Millennium's disposal."

"I don't like that pauze."

"...There are possibly some survivors, we didn't have the time to check every nook and corner of the ship, over thirty decks and hundreds of storage rooms and-" Tweedy was silenced with a single handgesture from the Obersturmführer.

Rip kept her back turned to the group, and instead of accepting the Commander's apologies, she retorted with a question.

"So...how does it feel, my newly promoted Captain? How does it feel to become a Nosferatu, a creature of the night? To stage a savage mutiny, to murder your officers and crew in cold blood und commit high treason, all in one night?"

Tweedy and the others were suprised by the accusive question that resembled a blunt statement of their actions, but their hesitance was enough of an answer for Rip to not await their response.

"I see...what about condemning your shipmates to Hell? Doomed to walk ze Earth as ghoulish rotting corpses, what was that like?"

The traitor coughed, uneased with the full implications of his acts being thrown into his face, the same for his fellow mutineers who's bloodlust had lowered considerable. And unlike real animals, they had too much brain to rely on instincts and were forced to rationalize their deeds. Which was hard, very hard.

To Rip, this was enough information for her to force an decision that was largely decided before she even left the mainland.

"Well...**Excellent work!**" Her serious tone changed to a cheery, almost child-like, high pitch. "This is really amazing, Millennium will be happy to have go-getters like you on our team! Ve couldn't have done it without you. And of course the Major, **he's so proud!** You _definately_ deserve everything that is coming to you."

The sudden change in her atittude and words once again suprised the UNIT vampires, only Tweedy managing to raise a small confused smile at the compliments.

"Vell...I guess the only thing left for you to do, you filthy limey, is die."

And without warning or indication, Rip leveled her musket at the group of traitors, cocked the hammer and fired. A blast of sparks and gunpowder smoke errupted that obscured a large part of the flightdeck almost instantly. Tweedy was faster to response than his collagues, and dodged the musket ball by leaping upwards to the roof of the nearby hangerbay behind Rip van Winkle.

"The fuckin cunt set us up, kill her!"

Instead of exacting bloody revenge, the heads and chests the mutineers one by one exploded in a fountain of gore, and even the ones far away from the musket's direct line of fire were struck. Within seconds, the twenty UNIT crewmembers who resigned their humanity to become vampires, were reduced to the one Commander Tweedy who gazed in shock at the remains of his succesful mutiny.

"I-Impossible, I heard only one shot! Can't be!"

Rip had her back turned to Tweedy, ignoring him as she with love inspected her weapon that after all this time still functioned perfectly. "I am the Huntress, Rip van Winkle. Tinkerer tailor, soldier sailor. My bullet punishes all vithout distinction!"

"Fuck you! Whatever ammunition you used, there won't be time to reload before I strangle you with your intestines!" Tweedy pounced like a predator from the roof, directly towards Rip who remain where she was, smiling.

"Silly creature."

The Commander suddenly noticed something moving through the sky with an irratic patron, the musket ball that illuminated with an strange blue radiance, and which came directly at him. His confusion took a second, the ball going through his eye, skull and spine took less time to turn him into a cloud of blood and bones that dropped to the deck. Rip decided fun was over, and got to work while awaiting her comrades to awaken.

"Obersturmführer!"

Rip was not even halfway finished with her current project, an enthuastic attempt to make the ship feel more homey, when her men had finally left the helicopter after having spent the entire flight within specially sealed coffins. They were Fallschirmjäger, the elite airborne forces of the Luftwaffe that rivaled the Waffen-SS in combat skill, but not even they could stand the sun in their new forms. A small price for the power gained.

"Ah, you are up. Gut. Now, the new flagship of ze German Reich's Aerial Fleet can finally commence operations."

The paratroopers snapped their heels together and saluted, before getting to work and take full control over the ship. The ghouls needed to be rounded up and locked away where they could not bother anyone, wandering on the decks below the bridge as only that section was required for their operation. Which only left one more thing for Rip van Winkle as after the Fallschirmjäger departed, the other passengers of the helicopter came towards her as they hovered across the deck. She depised them, a sentiment shared by everyone in the Letze Battalion.

"WHAT ARE OR-DERS."

And yet a purpose needed to be given or else they would be on everyone's nerves. And than Rip had a fantastic idea. Rip explained her project to cheer up the dreadful metallic design of the Valiant, and demanded that they continue while she did the more pressing matter of getting a nap before things got interesting. The wretched things they were forced to accept as allies did not seem enthuastic for the work however.

"DALEKS DO NOT DEC-ORATE. DO NOT DEC-ORAAATE!"

"Daleks obey orders. Und these are yours. Get to it."


End file.
